


Knock the Ice from My Bones

by vickjawn (awshitzombies)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amputation, Drug Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Friends With Benefits, Hostage Situations, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Panic Attacks, Redemption, Strike Commander Reyes, Torture, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-10-19 04:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 73,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10632402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awshitzombies/pseuds/vickjawn
Summary: Jesse botches a mission to infiltrate a social gathering that the Shimada clan is hosting and winds up getting taken back to Japan as a hostage. While Overwatch and the clan continue to negotiate, Jesse is stuck with Hanzo and Genji Shimada.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One quick note: this is an semi-canon AU wherein the Omnic Crisis hasn’t happened but Overwatch has been implemented as a terrorism-fighting squadron with Gabriel Reyes as Strike Commander and Jack Morrison at his side as second in command. Blackwatch does not exist. The OG squad is around, with some OCs to fill in the gaps.
> 
> Also, this chapter has some smut - fair warning! Enjoy.

“I feel like a goddamned fool,” Jesse muttered, glowering at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall of the hotel room.

“Look like one, too,” Gabriel generously offered from the bathroom. “But that’s fine. We’re gonna be surrounded by people who look dumb, so it’s only natural that we try to look the part, too.”

Jesse huffed and hooked his finger into the starchy white collar of his shirt, yanking the thing as far away from his throat as he could. Gabriel had fixed his red silk tie using a knot that was nigh-impossible to loosen, leaving him damn near choking in his own clothes. He’d never understand how some people could wear this fancy shit day in and day out.

Gabriel came out of the bathroom looking rather dapper in his own black suit and steel blue tie. “Stop fiddling with it,” he barked, moving to fix his shirt. Jesse had to physically keep himself from batting the older man’s hands away. “I know it sucks, but we gotta look the part for this mission. Unless you wanna bail on your very first undercover stint with Overwatch.”

“Hell nah,” Jesse said immediately, shaking his head. His hair, which had been slicked back a few minutes ago, was already starting to break away from the hairspray Ana had slathered onto it. Even his hair was too wild to be tamed and crammed into this highbrow nonsense.

Gabriel eyed the wayward strands, but didn’t try to fix them. “Relay the details to me.”

“My name’s Javier de Silva, you’re Lucas Ortega,” Jesse droned, rolling his eyes. He’d relayed the goddamned details forty times already. “We’re entertainers who’ve been hired by the Shimada clan to mingle and chat people up at the banquet tonight.”

“What’s our goal?”

“To snoop around for any and all intel in regards to what the Shimadas are plannin'. _C’mon_ , boss, this ain’t my first rodeo with y’all,” he whined, slumping his shoulders. “Gimme some goddamned credit.”

“No, but it is your first undercover mission,” Gabriel stressed, jabbing him hard enough in the chest to make him stumble back. “ _Undercover_ , kid - meaning you can’t just run into this guns blazing like all the other missions you’ve been on. There’re going to be a lot of innocent people at this banquet. We can’t risk exposing ourselves and starting a firefight in the middle of it all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jesse snarked, scowling as he tugged at his collar again. “Whatever you say, jefe.”

Gabriel hummed, then tossed him a data pad. “Look this over on the way,” he ordered, heading towards the door. “Shit you should know about the Shimada clan. Expect a quiz after.”

“Fuck’s sake.”

“Watch your mouth.”

* * *

The Shimada clan, Jesse learned on the ride to the banquet hall, were a nasty bunch. They might as well have been a high-class version of the Deadlock gang, just with more connections and money to throw around for these stuffy affairs every now and then.

“Mama and Papa Shimada,” Gabriel said, noting what page of the dossier he was on. “Matsu married into the family about twenty-two years ago and brought a shitton of business and money with her - and eventually two sons for Sojiro Shimada. Their empire’s only grown more powerful and more dangerous since.”

“Why hasn’t anyone in Japan done anything about ‘em?”

“They’re like their own brand of yakuza,” Gabriel explained. “They got ties in all the right places, threats and intimidation tactics to keep all the head officials quiet. Wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve got a hold on some folks in the UN.”

Jesse let out a low whistle and tossed the holopad onto the floor of the car. “That’s scary as all hell,” he muttered, fumbling for a cigarette. “I suppose that’s why they’ve managed to run around in the States all this time without gettin’ shut down, huh?”

“Bingo. There’s not much we can do about it - not unless we catch them doing some really shady shit. Hence why we’re scoping this banquet out. We find some juicy intel, we might be able to jump-start getting them the hell outta here before their drug and weapons trafficking business expands to include humans.”

Jesse’s stomach rolled at the information. “Can’t believe in this day and age slavery is still a thing,” he rasped, taking another deep puff of his cigarette.

“Well, with any luck, this’ll be a step forward in eradicating it completely,” Gabriel said, offering him a small smirk. “And you’ll help us do it.”

“Fuck yeah I will,” Jesse declared, sitting up straighter. “I’m all about justice.”

“Watch your mouth.”

* * *

They parked in a garage a few blocks from the elaborate hall being rented by the Shimada clan. It was in the middle of downtown New York City on a Saturday night, so the streets were packed with locals and tourists alike. Jesse and Gabriel blended in flawlessly, even all dolled up.

Jesse stared up at all the lights and big screen TVs that flooded Broadway, halfway to being gobsmacked. Before joining Overwatch, the biggest city he’d ever been in consisted of one main road, barely paved, and some old Mom n’ Pop stores that had been there for generations. This - this was something else, something Jesse wouldn’t mind visiting but definitely wouldn’t want to live in. The noise alone would drive him up a wall.

“C’mon,” Gabriel said, clapping a hand on his shoulder to steer him back on target. “There’ll be time for sightseeing later.”

“Bullshit,” Jesse told him. “You said that while we were in Philadelphia and Chicago and I never saw either of those cities again.”

“Work harder for more PTO,” Gabriel suggested. “You can go visit them by yourself some day.”

“By myself? Where’s the fun in that? I mean, who’s gonna babysit my dumb ass when I get trashed on expensive city-flavored booze?”

“And just how the hell is babysitting you a vacation for _me_? That’s just another day in the goddamned office.”

Jesse just shrugged and grinned at the older man, who was doing a shitty job of hiding his own smirk. “You signed up for this,” he reminded him.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Do you regret it yet?”

Gabriel cast him a sideways glance. “You’ve asked me that almost every day since I signed your adoption papers,” he said. “That was what, three years ago now?”

“Those were not - okay, screw you. And for the record, you’ve never given me a straight answer every single time I’ve asked.”

“I’ll let you know the day I do,” Gabriel said simply. “Something tells me it'll be sooner rather than later.”

That had Jesse scowling and dragging his polished shoes along the sidewalk until Gabriel smacked him upside the head and told him to stand up straight.

Jesse had been expecting their destination to be some sort of lavish, oriental-themed building, but instead found that the Shimada’s banquet hall looked the same as all the other silver and chrome buildings around it. Jesse supposed it made sense; if there were any shady things happening inside, they would want to try to blend in as flawlessly as possible.

Instead of heading right for it, Gabriel pulled Jesse over towards an alleyway a few buildings down with the guise of lighting up for a smoke.

“Fisher and Ivanov have already gone in, and Jack and Ana are on standby,” Gabriel informed him. He nodded at a lump on the sidewalk on the other side of the street - a homeless person to the untrained eye, but Jesse could recognize that shock of blond hair sticking out from under his ratty hat any day. “Ana’s nest is on the rooftops in case things go sour. You remembered your comm, right?”

Jesse poked at his ear where the tiny, nearly invisible device sat hidden. “Fully charged,” he reported. “Can y’all read me?”

“Loud and clear,” Ana said, voice only a little distorted. They had to secure the line, and that always made the connection weak and wonky. “You too, Gabriel.”

“Roger,” Gabriel replied, tapping his own ear. “Jack, did you fall asleep over in your piss corner?”

“No, but I’m probably gonna pass out soon from the fumes,” Overwatch’s second in command reported. From across the street, Jesse could see the man drag his sleeve across his nose. “I hate undercover work. But hey, at least you look good, Gabe.”

“Thanks,” Gabriel said at the same time Ana chimed in with a wry, “Stay focussed, lovebirds.”

Jesse rolled his eyes and stubbed out his cigarette.

Outside the gala, two very large bouncers - one human, one omnic - were checking the line of guests that stood behind a velvet rope barrier. Jesse did not miss the batons clipped to their belts, nor the way they were eying up all the guests like they were ticking time bombs. Gabriel wordlessly guided them into the back of the short line. His presence was a comfort to Jesse, but only until they were next and he was staring up at the omnic bouncer.

“Name?” he grunted, voice ringing faintly with a metallic ting.

“Uh - ” Jesse gathered his wits, forced his southern slur down. “Javier de Silva and my co-worker, Lucas Ortega. We’ve been hired as escorts for the ball.”

The human bouncer slowly scoured the list of people on his datapad. Although Jesse didn’t doubt Liao’s hacking skills - Fisher and Ivanov had gotten in earlier, so there was no reason why he and Gabriel shouldn’t - there was still a ball of anxiety rolling around in his gut, fueled by all the grim thoughts of failure currently bouncing around in Jesse’s head. It didn’t help that the omnic was staring at him the entire time, prepared to throw them out if their names failed to show up.

Thankfully the guard found them on the list and gave a nod of assent. The omnic stepped aside, gesturing to the door, and said, “the Shimada clan welcomes you.”

“Thanks,” Jesse muttered, moving inside.

Just inside the door was a short hallway that led into a lobby. More staff members were offering to take people’s coats as they slowly filed in, but the real concern came in the form of a metal detector blocking them from entering the main hall. There were more guards standing by, most stationary and hiding behind dark sunglasses while a handful of others did quick pat-downs of the guests before sending them through. Though Jesse didn’t have any weapons on him, the sight was still enough to kick his anxiety into full-charge.

Thankfully Gabriel was still there to ground him. One nudge of his shoulder was enough to get Jesse moving again, and a minute later they had passed through the security check without incident. Finally inside, Jesse heaved a sigh of relief.

“Off to a good start,” Gabriel told him under his breath. “But the night is young.”

“Shut up,” Jesse hissed back, stomping on his boss’s foot.

They entered the main room, and Jesse couldn’t help but inhale sharply with surprise at the sight that greeted him. Though the outside of the building was plain and conforming, the interior radiated Japanese culture, or at least attempted to mimic it. The walls appeared to be made of shōji screens, with pale yellow light being cast in from behind them to mimic sunlight. Hand painted scrolls dangled from the walls, portraying themes such as the seasons, and above a large staircase on the other side of the room was a gigantic mural of a cherry blossom tree in full bloom. There was soft music being played over the speakers, just barely audible over the chatter from the excited crowd, who also seemed to be gushing about the marvelous interior.

“Well, shit,” Jesse said, letting out a low whistle. “Maybe this won’t be too bad.”

“Focus,” Gabriel hissed. “Go mingle. Chat some folks up. Find out whatever you can however you can - but for fuck’s sake, don’t make a scene.”

“Aye aye, hefe,” Jesse said, firing off a mock-salute that had his mentor scowling all over again before he merged into the crowd.

Immediately Jesse made his way over to the bar and snagged a free flute of champagne, then hit the floor, nodding and flashing suave smiles at anyone who happened to glance his way. The few conversations he did manage to have with other attendees produced little information - most folks were just there because the place was fancy and they were looking for excuses to flaunt their wealth.

“Pricks,” Jesse muttered under his breath after yet another failed conversation. “All these lame-ass stories about golf and yachts are makin’ me wanna puke - and if one more dumpy old white guy tries to flirt with me, I’m gonna flip my goddamned lid. No offense, Jack.”

“I - what?” sputtered the blonde from over the comm.

“Focus,” Ana hissed.

Jesse kept moving, knocking back another flute of champagne before he eventually found Fisher and Ivanov milling in the crowd, undercover as one of the rich and famous couples Jesse was coming to loathe.

“Pretty snazzy suit, Frank,” Jesse said as he swaggered over to them. “It would look even better on my bedroom floor, though.”

The older man barked out a jolly laugh while Ivanov rolled her eyes skyward. “His name is Rupert Grant,” she stressed, scowling at him. “And I am his wife, Arianna. Focus, _Javier_.”

“Of course, how rude of me to flirt with a married man,” Jesse teased. He swaggered closer, lifting his champagne. “You think there could be anythin’ of interest upstairs?”

“Probably,” Fisher replied, casting a glance over at the large staircase sloping up to a mysterious second floor. “The Shimadas own this building, but they don’t use it much outside of throwing parties like this.”

“Perfect place to store some info then, don’t you think?”

Ivanov hummed, pursing her painted lips in thought. “It couldn’t hurt to check. If you can find a safe way up there, be my guest.”

“There’re guards at the top of the steps,” Gabriel said over their comms. “You’d have to find a way past them first.”

Jesse nodded at Fisher and Ivanov and started meandering back into the crowd in search of more booze. “Elevators?”

“Also guarded. Short of having our own damn escorts, we’re stuck floundering around - unless you can find an outside entrance or something, Ana.”

The sniper hummed. “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, keep at it.”

Jesse gave a grunt of affirmation, then a second one when someone abruptly brushed up against his shoulder. He turned to confront the offender, only to freeze when he caught sight of long, black hair tied back and a strong, handsome jaw.

“Pardon me,” the man said, blinking his dark eyes up at him. He was young, maybe Jesse’s age, and pretty goddamned handsome, if Jesse was being honest.

“I...not a problem,” he choked out, reaching to tip his hat, which he wasn’t wearing. He pawed uselessly at the air in front of his face for a second, then cracked a bashful grin at the guy.

The man offered him a wan smile before turning and disappearing into the crowd. Jesse watched him go until suddenly an idea struck him - one that was just crazy enough to work if the mystery man was willing.

“I think I found a way upstairs,” he reported to his handlers, grinning wolfishly. “Just gotta give me time to woo my guy.”

“Your guy?” Gabriel echoed as Fisher burst out laughing, making a hiss of static pop across their secured line. “What are you planning, kid?”

“Trust me,” Jesse said, eyes glued to the stranger across the room. “I got this.”

As the night went on, Jesse made it his mission to catch the eyes of that stranger. Half the time he was unnoticed, but those few times he glanced up and caught him staring, he wouldn’t look away in disgust or irritation - no, quite the opposite. He’d hold Jesse’s gaze, for a second or two, his expression carefully blank, before getting distracted by whoever he was talking to.

Jesse chanced getting closer around the third time it happened. The man held his gaze again, but this time he let it roam a bit, taking in Jesse’s shoulders, his chest. When he met Jesse’s gaze again, Jesse offered him a toothy grin and a wink.

The man cracked a small smile, told the older woman next to him something, then started for Jesse. Jesse cleared his throat, tugged at his noose-slash-tie, and hoped he didn’t look as sweaty as he felt.

“You are not from around here,” the man said by way of greeting.

“I - no,” Jesse said, failing to cover up his accent. He shrugged sheepishly. “You caught me, darlin’.”

“Texas?”

That wrenched a laugh out of Jesse. “Nah, New Mexico thereabouts. You?”

“Japan,” the man said, the corners of his pretty mouth perking up with Jesse’s laughter. He tilted his head, spilling his dark hair down his shoulder. “You called me darling. I don’t believe we’ve even met let alone held a conversation.”

“Couldn’t help myself. Don’t think I gotta tell you that you’re as pretty as a picture.”

“What a strange saying,” the man commented, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Not all pictures are pretty.”

“No? Well, how’s about: you’re a cold glass of water on a hot summer day.”

The man cracked a wider smile and very nearly laughed, if his shaking shoulders were any indication. “What brings you here, sir?” he asked.

“Business - same as you, I wager,” Jesse said, making the man nod in affirmation. “And Jesse’s fine, sugar. This place’s stuffy enough without formalities.”

He offered his hand at the same minute he realized he’d just given his real name instead of his fake one. He could almost hear Gabriel losing his shit, no doubt sensing his slip-up with his Strike Commander Senses. Not much he could do about it now, though.

The man shook Jesse’s hand when he offered it, his grip firm but not overly so. “My name is Hanzo,” he said, then cracked a small smirk. “Though I suppose you will keep at it with these nicknames.”

“Got a million of ‘em, honeybee,” Jesse confirmed, earning another smile from the man. Damn, did Jesse like seeing him smile. “Hanzo, though, huh? Handsome name for a handsome guy.”

“You flatter me,” Hanzo said, ducking his head slightly. Jesse didn’t miss the slight blush on his pale cheeks, either. “Too bad it will get you nowhere.”

“Aw, that true? Shame,” Jesse said, subtly swaying into Hanzo’s space - just enough to give him an idea of exactly what Jesse wanted. He lowered his head closer to Hanzo’s ear and spoke in a low rumble. “‘Cos I can see you and me in a lot of places, doll. Specifically a bedroom, right now.”

That had the man arching a thick brow at him, and for a second Jesse was sure he’d pushed too hard. It had been a long, long time since he’d had to put his flirting skills to use - the Deadlock gang was made up of the last sort of people he’d ever wanna test his skills on, and aside from a very not-interested Angela Ziegler, there was no one his age back at HQ to work his magic on, either.

Just as those thoughts threatened to make him backpedal, Hanzo shot a quick glance around at the crowd, then took a step into Jesse’s own personal space, leveling his mouth with his ear.

He sucked Jesse’s earlobe into his mouth, tugging on it with his teeth. “Follow,” he ordered as he pulled back, licking his lips.

Jesse picked his jaw up off the floor and stumbled after him. He very nearly lost his footing in the crowd, but Hanzo snagged him around the wrist and pulled him along with an increasing vigor up the stairs.

“I’m in,” he managed to squeak into the comm, voice almost lost to the noise from the music and crowd.

“In what? You - ” Gabriel gave an outraged sputter over the comm. “Jesus, Jesse, really?”

Jesse ignored him, instead turning his attention to the guard Hanzo was dragging him towards. Hanzo barked something in Japanese, which instantly had the man standing down and allowing them to pass. Jesse tilted his invisible hat at him as Hanzo pulled him along.

“Darlin’, what’s the rush?” he asked, a little breathless as they rounded the end of the hall. Despite the need growing in his gut, he was taking note of the path they were taking, of all doors they were passing. Goddamn, scouring this place was going to be a pain in the ass.

Welp, he thought, grinning, he’d just have to give Hanzo the best goddamned blowjob of his life to knock him out for a good long time, that’s all.

Just as he was thinking that, Hanzo seized him by the front of his suit and shoved him back into the closest wall. Hanzo’s mouth was on him immediately, harsh and unforgiving and the hottest fuckin’ thing Jesse had ever experienced in his sweet twenty-one years of life. He gripped Hanzo back, fisting his hair and holding his hip tight enough to bruise as he gave the guy a taste of his own medicine.

Eventually they had to break for air, each gasping like drowning fools. “Lordy,” Jesse wheezed, grinning down at the other breathless man. “And here I was thinkin’ I was comin’ on too strong.”

Hanzo just smirked. “You are not the only one who finds these functions uptight and boring,” he explained.

As he spoke, Hanzo started pulling him down the hall again, then up another flight up steps to the third floor of the establishment. The hallway lights flickered on automatically as they passed, until finally they reached their destination - a decorated room with an actual bed, enormous and ready for action.

Jesse felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth when he realized this was really going to happen. He was about to have sex with a guy he only just met.

 _Get it together, McCree_ , he thought, exhaling heavily through his nose. This wasn’t just sex - he was on a mission. He couldn’t let Gabe or the others down.

When he turned around to crack another lame southern phrase, he caught sight of Hanzo fumbling with some champagne, pouring some into a tall crystal flute to share. He took a swig, then held the remnants out for Jesse to consume. “You seem nervous,” he said.

“Just wanna do you good, darlin’,” Jesse told him, accepting the drink and downing it despite his words of confidence. Liquid courage, don’t fail me now, he thought. He was already a bit buzzed from his earlier drinks, but he doubted this additional shot would be enough to send his nervous jitters away.

Hanzo smiled, and Jesse felt some of his anxiety chip away. “This isn’t a competition,” he said quietly, taking the empty glass from him. “Just two new friends attempting to not die of boredom at a stuffy black tie event.”

“Amen to that.”

Hanzo’s smile softened as he leaned forward and kissed him again, apparently unable to keep his hands off Jesse for longer than twenty seconds. The thought was a great boost to Jesse’s ego, giving him the power to return Hanzo’s kiss with a vigor that left Hanzo gasping and grabbing at Jesse’s suit jack, trying to tear it clean off him from the looks of things.

“Easy,” he blurted, chuckling as he pulled back and started to disrobe. “These’re expensive, darlin’.”

He hesitated for all of a second before deciding heck, it was probably for the best that he removed his earpiece as well, not wanting Hanzo to be running his fingers through his hair or something and find the almost invisible wire in his ear. He pulled it out and left it in his shirt, managing to do it without Hanzo being any wiser.

Hanzo watched, lips pursed with amusement. “Expensive,” he echoed, “you say as you leave them on the floor.”

“Ain’t nothin’ a wash won’t fix,” Jesse said as he crawled back on the bed. “I’m a lil’ eager to get back to you is all.”

“I should hope so,” Hanzo said, opening his arms.

Jesse draped himself over Hanzo and resumed sucking face, humming with appreciation for the man’s skill. Hanzo’s hands eventually went to his ass, kneading the firm flesh before they moved beneath the waistband of his boxers. A finger was suddenly rubbing at a part of him he’d never let anyone touch before. A bolt of surprise followed by a burst of anxiety swallowed him almost immediately, making him rear back.  
  
“Whoa there, I - ” He bit his lip, suddenly too anxious for words. Blowjobs he could do - eagerly, with some pretty significant skill, if he was being honest - but bending over for a stranger?

Hanzo noticed how stiff he’d gotten. “Are you all right?”

“I’ve...” No. He couldn’t fuck this up. “Fine, darlin’. You got all the stuff we need?”

Hanzo hummed and moved for the bedside table. He rummaged around in the drawer and produced a small bottle of lubricant and a handful of condoms.

Jesse cracked a cocky grin at the sight of them. “Were you plannin’ on pickin’ someone up tonight or what?”

“What do you think these rooms are for?” Hanzo asked, smirking. “I’m glad I had the foresight to rent it out and have it fully stocked. Now, lie back and let me take care of you, cowboy.”

Jesse obeyed, settling on the pillows as Hanzo sat between his legs, coaxing them apart. Hanzo was more gentle with his fingers than he’d been with his kisses, but Jesse was still too much on edge to really appreciate any of it. He kept still, sighing and flexing his toes with every careful thrust of Hanzo’s slicked index and middle fingers.

“Tense,” Hanzo mused quietly, glancing up at Jesse from beneath his lashes. “Are you sure you’ve done this before?”

“Of course,” Jesse said, priding himself on only sounding a little strained. “Just been a while.”

The other man hummed. “I will be gentle.”

True to his word, Hanzo pushed in slowly. There was a burn with the stretch, but the careful preparation and generous amount of lubricant made it a fairly easy journey. In less than a minute - though it felt much longer to Jesse - Hanzo was fully seated inside him.

 _He’s inside me_ , Jesse thought, delirious. Someone was inside him for the first time ever - and it was amazing, despite what his mostly flaccid cock was currently thinking. It didn’t take much to wake it back up, especially when Hanzo started moving and bumping his prostate with every other thrust.

The first jolt made him cry out. “Jesus!” he hissed, letting his head fall back while the rest of him arched. “Good, darlin’, don’t - don’t stop…”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Hanzo said as he pulled back and began thrusting into him in earnest.

Jesse sucked in a wet breath and squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly overwhelmed and he wasn’t sure why. Was he anxious? Aroused beyond comprehension? His heart was threatening to beat out of his chest with every damn thrust Hanzo made.

“Jesse?” Hanzo murmured. His thrusts had slowed, giving Jesse a chance to breathe.

He cracked open his eyes as something wet trickled down the side of his face. “Oh,” he whimpered. His eyes started burning, but he couldn’t bring himself to blink, unwilling to look away from Hanzo’s flushed, sweat-speckled face. “Oh.”

Hanzo’s brows furrowed as he reached out and laid his hand on the side of Jesse’s face. He said nothing, his expression betrayed nothing, but his touch was enough to bring Jesse back from the brink of whatever place he’d been headed towards.

His orgasm hit him suddenly and almost a little painfully; he yelped and wrapped his legs around Hanzo, riding it out for the next couple of seconds. Hanzo was murmuring into his ear, but Jesse barely heard him, too stunned out of his mind to do much more than gasp and writhe.

Hanzo gripped him as he came as well, silent save for little gasps that Jesse felt more than heard. Almost immediately afterwards, both of them collapsed into a sweaty, heaving pile on the damp sheets.

“Wow,” Jesse mumbled eventually, lifting a hand to push his hair out of his eyes. He felt numb and gooey it was lovely. “That was good, darlin’. Real good. Damn.”

Hanzo chuckled a little, still breathless as he carefully pulled out of Jesse, making him hiss and groan. He was sore and oversensitive, which did wonders in keeping him conscious despite the growing urge to sleep. Now that his brain wasn’t muddled by lust and anxiety, he was all too aware of the mission he had yet to complete. He only hoped he’d worn Hanzo out in turn.

It seemed like it; the man was shuddering with exhaustion now. He reached over Jesse towards the bedside table. “Could you hand me that vial, please?” he asked.

Jesse did so, passing him the tiny clear capsule he found perched on the table. “This medicine or somethin’?” he asked, watching Hanzo pop the cap off and knock the liquid back in one semi-frantic go.

“No,” Hanzo said after a long moment to gather himself. “It’s the antidote to the poison we drank earlier.”

Jesse chuckled, but it died in his throat when he noticed that Hanzo’s expression was now borderline sinister, complete with smarmy smirk and narrowed eyes. He moved to lie back against the pillows, practically lounging, and it was in that same instance that Jesse felt something cold seize his gut.

With all the grace of a man realizing he was quite literally fucked, Jesse backpedaled off the bed, arms flailing for purchase as he fell on his ass. The pain brought him back to reality long enough for him to make a dash for the door, but it was too late; his legs suddenly locked, leaving him face-planting into his discarded shirt.

Then came the pain - raw, unrestrained, building rapidly like a fire fed by oxygen. Jesse couldn’t help the panicked yelp that escaped him. He’d been in some serious pain before, but nothing like this. He squirmed and thrashed, trying to find a position that brought him less agony, but no dice - the slightest bit of pressure on his skin was enough to make his vision turn white at the edges.

He tried to speak, but all he managed to get out was a weak, “Why?”

Hanzo snorted from his place on the bed. “You think you can infiltrate a Shimada affair and get away with it? You’re as foolish as you are bad in bed.”

Jesse hissed at him. Of course he slept with a Shimada. That was just his crummy luck.

Despite his wounded ego, Jesse kept quiet, trying to save his strength. Through the red haze encroaching on his vision, he noted that his earpiece was mere inches from his face, still wrapped up in his shirt. Though his bones were on fire and his skin impaled and sticking to the razor-sharp carpet, he knew he could scrounge together one last burst of strength to contact the others. He wouldn’t go down without a fight, dammit.

“How many of you are there?” Hanzo continued, sounding bored as he rose to his feet and snagged the fluffy white bathrobe off the back of the bathroom door. “We’ve already seen your sniper on the roof and at least one other agent masquerading as a guest downstairs. I must say, he bears a striking resemblance to the leader of that Overwatch organization.”

As soon as Hanzo had his back turned, Jesse swung his arm up and grabbed the comm as best as he could with fingers that might as well have been broken. The movement sparked a bolt of pain that had Jesse screaming for the first time, loud and panicked.

“Jesse?” came Gabriel’s faint voice from the earpiece. “Are you - shit, Jesse, I do not need to hear this - ”

“Gabe,” Jesse rasped, struggling to form words. His tongue was just as useless as the rest of him at the moment. “Gabe, third floor bedroom, m’ compromised - ”

Hanzo was on him instantly, kicking him solidly across the face hard enough to make his teeth clack together and his head snap back. He groaned at the new burst of pain and choked at the taste of blood in his mouth. He was damned lucky he hadn’t bitten clean through his tongue.

Though he was well on his way to passing out, he could still distantly hear Gabriel yelling into the comm, demanding more details until Hanzo crushed it beneath his heel. The man sneered at the remnants of the device, then turned his scowl on Jesse.

“You won’t need that where you’re headed,” he promised.

* * *

When a burst of static and a heavy silence followed Jesse’s slurred cry for help over the comm, Gabriel felt a cold rock settle in his gut. For a tense moment, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. It was Jack’s frantic cry for the gunslinger than had him snapping out of it with a renewed vigor as he slipped into some weird cocktail combination of Strike Commander and what Ana referred to as Papa Bear Reyes mode.

“I need a distraction,” Gabriel ordered, already making his way towards the staircase. “Fisher, Ivanov, can you - ”

A piercing cry erupted from close to the foot of the stairs; as Gabriel grew closer, he realized it was Ivanov, who was bent low over Fisher’s comatose body wailing about how her husband was having a heart attack. The guards on the stairs migrated towards them, and Gabriel made his move, dashing up the stairs while the crowd was distracted.

“Third floor,” he grit out to himself, sprinting up the next flight of stairs with ease. He reached the top and cursed at the sight of a long hallway lined with unmarked doors. “Third floor _where_ , Jesse?”

“The helicopter on the roof is starting up,” Ana reported suddenly, her voice tense over the comm.

Gabriel made for the next staircase, clearing two steps at a time. “Can you get a shot on the pilot?”

“Negative, I don’t have a good angle. Keep going up, Gabriel, _hurry_.”

He obeyed, pushing himself to his limit. Jack had always been the quickest of them; only now was Gabriel cursing the fact that he hadn’t switched places with the man for this mission. He was also regretting not trying to figure out a way to smuggle his shotguns into the banquet; if he ran into any armed clan members, he had no way to fight back.

Despite the possibility of present danger, Gabriel threw himself onto the roof just in time to witness the helicopter taking off, its rotor blades loud and sending a wave of wind and grit into his face. He threw his arms up as a shield, glowering at the vibrant Shimada clan crest emblazoned on the side of the vehicle.

Fisher and Ivanov appeared behind him shortly after, out of breath and uttering curses at the sight of the helicopter flying away with one of their own trapped inside it. “What now, sir?” Ivanov asked.

Gabriel watched the helicopter until it vanished from view, his expression tight, his gaze cold and narrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few disclaimers: I don’t know much about military or the government and how to deal with hostage situations like this, so I took a few liberties here and there. Likewise, as we know next to nothing about Mama and Papa Shimada and how they ran their family business, I’ve taken some liberties with it too. Please note that while the clan is based on the Yakuza, it is its own entity and I’ve treated it as such.
> 
> Kudos and comments are very appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

“Stupid!” Gabriel snarled for the tenth time as he paced up and down the deserted meeting room within the Zurich base. His boots pounded noisily on the smooth floor, though he couldn’t hear it over the sound of blood rushing through his ears. “I told him - I told him not to get in over his head! Why the hell doesn’t he ever listen to me?”

“You couldn’t have predicted this,” Jack informed him firmly, ever the voice of reason during one of Gabriel’s meltdowns. It was as infuriating as it was coveted. “And he does listen. He listens to you more than he does anyone else, save for maybe Ana.”

“I _told_ him - ”

“I know. Look,” Jack began quietly, fixing his piercing blue gaze on Gabriel, “we’ve got all hands on deck trying to locate Jesse. We all feel guilty about this.”

Indeed, most of Overwatch was now highly aware of what had happened, and agents stationed at the Watchpoints in Beijing and Hong Kong had already sent some scouts to Japan in search of their missing agent. Hanamura was their first logical stop, but for all they knew, the Shimada clan had locations all over the damn country. If the clan didn’t attempt to make contact with Overwatch, Jesse might as well have been lost forever. The thought was beyond disturbing.

“Not as guilty as I do,” Gabriel fired back. “Jesse wasn’t ready for this sort of work. I should have put him through more training, more simulations.”

“He did what he thought was right. He got access to the upper floors faster than any of us could have. It just didn’t turn out in his favor.”

“And now he’s paying the price for it.” Gabriel collapsed into the closet chair, making the poor metal thing groan in protest. “You know the UN isn’t gonna let us go after one agent - an ex-criminal at that.” They had always frowned at the idea of taking in criminals even though most cases had turned out okay. “The Shimadas have a tighter hold on them than they do their own government, I swear to fuckin’ god.”

Jack bit his lip, but before he could come up with something positive to counter that, the incoming call light on the computer monitor across the screen lit up, the number unknown. Gabriel jerked out of his seat and slammed the answer button down. Dimly he knew he should have waited for the others, but it had been hours since the gala disaster, hours since he’d last seen Jesse alive. He couldn’t be blamed for being a little eager.

Sure enough, the eldest son of the Shimada clan came into view along with an entourage of men in suits. Jesse was standing a few feet behind him, though perhaps “standing” was too generous of a word. Two guards were supporting him under his arms while the rest of him sagged. He barely seemed conscious never mind cognizant enough to even raise his head. The fact that he was also as naked as the day he was born wasn’t helping matters, either.

“You couldn’t have at least given him some clothes?” was the first thing Gabriel offered up.

“He is much more comfortable without anything on his skin,” Hanzo said. “The poison currently wreaking havoc on his nerves makes even the slightest touch unbearable.”

To prove his point, he twisted around in his seat and solidly laid his hand on Jesse’s shoulder, wrenching a wet grunt out of the kid as he tried and failed to shy away from the touch.

Gabriel bristled, but kept his expression in angry neutral mode. “What do you want?” he asked, getting right to the point.

“Many things. But right now? Nothing.”

“What?” Gabriel blurted. If he didn’t know their demands, the UN wouldn’t even begin to think about granting them permission to negotiate, never mind actually fight back. “Don’t bother with the mystic mind shit, Shimada. I don’t think you understand what kind of fire you’re playing with. You kidnapped an agent of Overwatch.”

“We understand it perfectly. Your team lied to gain access to a private, peaceful gathering hosted by my clan, and we retaliated justly.”

“ _Justly_? How the hell is kidnapping on the same level as infiltration?”

Hanzo arched a thick brow, unimpressed. “You were intending to steal any and all intel on our business, were you not? Well, we have stolen something of yours.”

Gabriel bristled again, thoroughly done with this garbage, but Jack stepped forward then, laying a quick, careful hand on his shoulder that, to anyone else, was nothing more than reassuring. For Gabriel, it was grounding - a sharp reminder not to lose himself. Not yet.

“We want to settle this as amicably as possible,” Jack said carefully. “I’m not sure the United Nations will see things from your point of view here. Stealing intel is a far cry different from kidnapping a person.”

“Do correct me if I’m wrong,” Hanzo began slowly, almost slyly, “but I don’t believe that the United Nations had any idea that your squadron had plans to spy on our affair to begin with. In fact, last I heard, there were several orders from them instructing Overwatch to stay out of our business.”

That had both men ducking their heads and averting their gazes for a moment. It was true - several months ago orders had come down from brass to stay clear of anything and everything Shimada. It had been their first inkling that the clan had sunk their claws into one or more of the UN members. Judging by how confident Hanzo was looking at the moment, their suspicions were justified.

Hanzo leaned over to tap the end call button. “We’ll be in touch with our demands, Commander Reyes. For your agent’s sake, you had best be prepared to comply.”

The call cut. The screen went black again, and the sudden silence rang loudly in Gabriel’s ears. “For fuck’s sake - Athena! Can you trace that call?”

There was a pause as the AI tabulated the signal. “From Hanamura, Japan,” she reported. “Directly from the confines of the Shimada Castle.”

Of course. The Shimadas had always been a confident bunch. They knew there was no way anyone from Overwatch could possibly gain access to their grounds, never mind the damned castle, so why bother hiding Jesse anywhere else?

Well, Gabriel was nothing if not stubborn, too. “Fire up a bird for me,” he ordered, reaching over to grab his discarded gear. If nothing else, he could set up shop in Hanamura, keep the fuckers on their toes.

Jack lashed out, grabbing him by the shoulder before he could so much as don his armor. “We shouldn’t be hasty,” he hissed, eyes wild. “The last thing we need is both the Shimada Clan and the UN coming down on us because we made some rash decisions. We need to wait to hear their demands first, okay?”

Gabriel knew. It was just beyond frustrating, knowing that one of their own was in trouble - in pain - and he couldn’t do shit about it. Definitely one of the downsides of being strike commander. “They’re going to be ridiculous,” he grumbled. “Money and top secret weapon schematics, probably.”

“We’ll give them what we can.”

“The UN won’t allow it.”

“They didn’t give us permission to sneak in there last night, either.” Jack offered him a tired smile. “We just need to wait and see, play it by ear. Have some faith, Gabe.”

Gabriel flipped the nearest table, sending it clattering to the floor alongside all its sparse contents. He gave it a kick for good measure, denting the damned thing.

“Feel better now?” Jack drawled, unimpressed but allowing him to blow off some steam.

“No,” Gabriel spat, wiping the back of his hand across his nose.

His second in command sighed, then came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle and laying his brow against the back of Gabriel’s heated neck. “We’ll get him back,” Jack told him quietly.

“Yeah,” Gabriel muttered. He just hoped it was sooner rather than later.

* * *

Jesse was pissed.

He’d been pissed off since he realized he’d been poisoned, pissed off since Hanzo told him he was shit in bed, pissed off since he’d been kidnapped and flown literally across the world to a country he’d never been to, pissed since these assholes made him stand butt-naked in front of his superiors while they failed to negotiate his safe return - pain be damned.

The only thing that put a slight damper on his mood was the fact that his new “cell” was actually more like a motel room; it had a bathroom off to the side complete with a shower-tub combo and a decent-sized bed with clean sheets. No windows, but he expected that much at least.

But of course, even what little positivity he’d found in his situation had to be soiled. The guards who’d dragged him to his new quarters threw him down onto the bed, wrenching another pained cry out of him, then promptly stuck a shackle around his one ankle.

Jesse barely managed to pick his head up to gape at the device; it had no keyhole, nor any hinges he might have been able to fiddle with. Probably a bio-lock, the semi-rational part of his mind supplied. In other words, zero hope of him getting it off.

The guards left him, locking him into his new quarters. As soon as he was alone, Jesse rolled off the bed and began pawing at the shackle, not wanting to give up just yet. It was connected to a lengthy chain, which in turn was bolted into the floor in front of the bed. A quick look around revealed nothing he could use to bend the chains open, and there was no soap in the bathroom for him to try to slip his way out of it.

“Fuck,” he choked out, collapsing against the cold tile floor of the bathroom. The chain barely reached in here; he’d be lucky if he could take a shit on the toilet without having to dislocate his leg.

The first wave of true terror struck him then, leaving him curled up and shuddering on the floor. He was alone, in agony, with currently close to zero hope of being rescued, and he was all too aware of it.

Hours or maybe days later - without a window or clock, it was impossible for Jesse to tell - Hanzo came to him with a tiny bottle of clear fluid. Despite being almost out of his mind at that point, Jesse was sober enough to realize what kind of salvation that tiny bottle had for him.

He reached for it with a limp hand, almost knocking it out of Hanzo’s grasp.

“Ah,” Hanzo tsked, pulling it out of his reach. “What would you give me in exchange for this, I wonder?”

At that, the anger came flooding back, waking up Jesse’s spite. He scowled viciously at the man before falling limp again, accepting the pain. After wallowing in it for so long, he was damn near getting used to being on fire. Screw an antidote.

“Stubborn,” Hanzo purred, “even with a body full of poison. I’m impressed.”

Jesse prided himself on being able to nail Hanzo on the cheek with a wad of saliva. “Fuck you.”

To his immense irritation, the other man just smirked and wiped the glob of spit away with the sleeve of his shirt. “Didn’t you do that already?” he mused. “Not that I can blame you for forgetting - the experience was hardly memorable.”

Jesse huffed out a raspy laugh. “Shame I can’t say the same,” he spat. “I’ll remember the face of the first guy who fucked me in more ways than one for a long time. Probably in my nightmares.”

At that, Hanzo’s expression darkened, all traces of amusement vanishing in the blink of an eye. “Are you are insinuating that I forced you to bed?” he snapped. “How dare you suggest that when _you_ were the one who came onto _me_ for half of the night.”

He had a point, Jesse dimly knew, but he was much too infuriated to think or fight logically. “I had a mission to do.”

“So did I!” Hanzo spat back, jumping to his feet as if burned. “If you truly felt pressured, you could have said no!”

“Would you have let me go, knowin’ I was there to snoop?”

Hanzo scowled. “And if the situation had turned out in your favor? If your squad had arrived in time to save you and capture me?”

“Big difference between kidnappin’ and bein’ arrested, asshole.”

“But the treatment would have been the same.” Hanzo shook his head. “Do not deny that your intentions were just as dishonorable as mine were when our eyes met on that dancefloor.”

“Dishonorable? Yes,” Jesse sneered up at him. “But I had no plans to kidnap you or torture you once I was done with you.”

“Oh no?”

“ _No_ ,” Jesse stressed. “I didn’t even know who you were, you piece of shit! I was supposed to give you the best blowjob of your life and leave your sleepin’ ass back in the room while I snuck around lookin’ for shit.’”

That wrenched a sputtering, ugly laugh out of the other man. “Oh, I needed a laugh, thank you,” he muttered, wiping a fake tear from his eye. Abruptly his mood darkened again. “We are done discussing this. Think ill of me all you like - but do not dare label me as something I am most certainly not.”

“Right. You’re just a piece of shit.”

Hanzo’s scowl merely deepened. He left without any further biting comments, and though Jesse had won the fight - or so he was content to think - he was still in agony, still alone on the floor of a bathroom deep within the bowels of the Shimada castle.

* * *

An hour or so later, Hanzo returned to give Jesse the antidote.

He found the man passed out where Hanzo had left him on the bathroom floor, one leg stretched out awkwardly thanks to the shackle keeping him grounded. Bending low, Hanzo tapped the side of his flushed face, ordering him to wake up. When Jesse did nothing, not even bat an eyelash, Hanzo sighed and crouched down to his level, resorting to shaking his shoulders.

“Wuh,” the man grunted, his whole face contorting with another wave of pain. If he had just woken up when Hanzo had called him, he wouldn’t have had to touch him.

“Sit up,” Hanzo ordered, planting himself on the floor and attempting to draw Jesse into his lap for better access.

Immediately Jesse started to struggle, twisting and smacking like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “No,” he whimpered. “Stop, stop, please - ”

“Be still and let me help you,” Hanzo snapped, hauling him back into his lap.

Though barely conscious, Jesse still continued to make a nuisance of himself. He kept thrashing when Hanzo made him sit up a little; he lacked the strength to be truly annoying, but it was still enough to make holding him difficult.

“ _Stop_ ,” Hanzo hissed, moving to trap at least one of his flailing arms by coiling his legs around his middle. Jesse let out another wild noise and arched, trying to buck Hanzo off, but Hanzo had him now.

Jesse could do little more than choke on the antidote as Hanzo poured it into his mouth and clapped his free hand over his face, preventing him from spitting it up. Jesse’s free hand shot up, flopping around until it found purchase on Hanzo’s wrist. He tugged once, trying to get his hand off, but Hanzo held tight.

A few seconds later, Hanzo felt him swallow. He removed his hand, allowing Jesse to gulp in some much-needed air. He cried out again, this one weaker, more like a mewing kitten than a man.

“You’re fine,” Hanzo told him quietly, laying his free hand over Jesse’s sweat-slicked brow. “Breathe. You are fine now.”

Slowly Jesse’s breathing evened out until he was lying completely limp against Hanzo, unconscious from exhaustion instead of pain. It would take a while for the antidote to work the poison over, but in terms of relief, it was almost instantaneous.

Meaning, there was really no excuse for Hanzo to continue sitting on the floor with Jesse in his lap. And yet there he sat for a good half hour, his arms wrapped around Jesse’s torso to keep him from sliding onto the floor. If anyone asked, Hanzo thought, he would blame it on the fact that Jesse had yet to let go from where he’d tangled his hand in Hanzo’s shirt. Annoying even while he slept.

He must be mad, he thought as he eventually lifted Jesse into a bridal carry and toted him back into the bedroom. Truly out of his mind, he confirmed as he tucked the lanky American in, mindful of the damned chain around his leg.

As soon as Jesse’s skin touched the soft blankets, he let out a pleased, quiet whine and burrowed deeper into them, sighing with utmost relief. It had been hours since he’d felt anything but needles and blades against his skin.

Hanzo almost felt bad.

* * *

A day went by with little fanfare. When he wasn’t with the elders drafting out the final list of demands to offer Overwatch in the eventual release of their agent, Hanzo was focusing on his numerous other tasks and lessons. For a few blessed hours, Hanzo nearly forgot about the American.

Then, nearing dusk, one of the servants came to him, her head bowed low. “The boy did not touch his breakfast or lunch,” she said. “I fear he is trying to starve himself.”

It wouldn’t be the first time a prisoner had attempted to protest or off themselves in that manner, as there was little else they could do. With a deal crucial to expanding their trade routes at stake, leaving Jesse to starve himself was unacceptable. And since Hanzo had been the one to bring him in, he was responsible for making sure Jesse behaved.

“Have you prepared his supper?” Hanzo asked, trying not to take out his irritation on this poor old woman.

The servant nodded and went to fetch it for him. He took the tray containing green tea and a small bowl of gyudon down into the holding rooms, nodding at the numerous guards he passed on the way. He felt foolish bringing the American his dinner like a servant, but short of having the man die of starvation, he was out of luck.

Hanzo pressed his thumb to the bio-lock on the door and entered without knocking. He braced himself for an attack, an attempted escape at the very least, but instead found Jesse curled up between the wall and the bed, knees drawn to his chest and his head down. He looked small and pale against the vibrant red paint on the wall.

“I could have been an assassin,” Hanzo commented, earning a brief glance from the other man that quickly morphed into a scowl. “Some Overwatch agent you are, letting your guard down like this.”

Jesse snorted. “An assassin would be a blessin’ at this point,” he said. “I’m bored outta my goddamned mind.”

Hanzo knelt a few feet from him and set the tray of food down, nudging it closer. “You will not be able to fight off any assassins if you don’t eat,” he pointed out.

“Says you. I ain’t a stranger to it,” Jesse said, sounding far too smug and proud about it for Hanzo’s liking. “So save your breath tryin’ to talk me outta it.”

Hanzo tilted his head, almost concerned by the revelation. Jesse was a lanky fellow, but by no means underfed. “Do they not feed you at Overwatch?” he asked.

“Naw, they feed me plenty,” Jesse said, eying the bowl of gyudon a little. His words were confident, but Hanzo could see the hunger in his gaze. “The folks at Deadlock, though - you’d be lucky to get lunch twice a week - ”

His mouth clacked shut as he met Hanzo’s gaze. He was wide-eyed, thin-lipped - worried that he had said too much. A new concern for him, Hanzo was sure.

“I already know about your past with that Deadlock gang,” he said. “We’ve done our research since you’ve come into our hands.”

He took pleasure in the way Jesse paled and glanced away, either with shame or anxiety over exactly how much Hanzo now knew. “Picked up by Overwatch at age seventeen when they put an end to the Deadlock trade route along Route 66,” he continued, rubbing it in. “You had a choice, didn’t you? Prison or joining their ranks. It seems you’ve been a captive all your life, haven’t you, Mr. McCree?”

“You gonna tell me my whole life story or what?” Sneering, Jesse shoved the tray of food back at him, spilling most of its contents. “Take this shit and get out.”

Hanzo frowned down at the mess. “At least drink the tea.”

“I got tap,” Jesse told him, jerking his head towards the bathroom.

“I will have it turned off.”

Jesse’s sneer merely widened, revealing a flash of teeth, like a snarling coyote. “Then I guess I’ll fuckin’ die of dehydration,” he snapped. “I ain’t eatin’ or drinkin’ nothin’ you give me, Shimada. Get the fuck outta my face.”

Hanzo scowled viciously at him, but gave in and stormed out, if only to keep himself from pummeling the stubborn man to a bloody pulp.

* * *

As Gabriel predicted, the list of demands the Shimada clan sent them were ridiculous and almost guaranteed to be denied once the UN got involved.

“All of the schematics for our high-powered, top-secret weaponry, full unmonitored access to all their global trade routes,” Jack continued to read from the list displayed on his holopad. “Exactly what you thought they’d want. At least they aren’t demanding billions of dollars on top of all that.”

Gabriel grunted in agreement. “Money’s the one thing they don’t need,” he muttered. And of course, it would have been the one thing the UN might have been willing to give them. The chances of them agreeing to any of the other demands were zero.

Speak of the devil - the monitor on the wall flickered to life with an incoming call from the United Nations headquarters in New York City. Overwatch had been the one to request a meeting, but that didn’t keep an icy pool of anxiety from forming in Gabriel’s gut. This wasn’t going to be pretty no matter what the UN decides.

Once the call was accepted, the screen flickered to life, revealing two stern-faced men in suits. Gabriel didn’t recognize the younger one of them, which immediately made any hope he’d had of getting the UN to cooperate dwindle to near zero. Though it wasn’t like Director Petras’ presence instilled much hope for them, either.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Petras said, then gestured to the younger man next to him, who nodded in greeting. “This is Leeroy Osur, a representative from the United Nations. Let’s keep this brief. We won’t bother to reprimand your decision to infiltrate the event the Shimada clan hosted last night in New York City without first waiting to get permission from the Safety Council. Expect to be summoned before the week is out to discuss that in more detail.”

“Noted,” Gabriel muttered. Nothing like being talked down to by a dozen or so emotionless faces.

Petras leaned forward, his old hands steepled. “Your request for retaliation against the Shimada clan has been received,” he said. “Which agent of yours has been taken hostage?”

“Jesse McCree.”

Osur looked befuddled while Petras’ face wrinkled up with disgust. “The Deadlock boy? What on earth was he doing on an espionage mission to begin with? Doesn’t he specialize in mindless shootouts?”

Gabriel frowned. “Overwatch agents need to be proficient in an array of different fields,” he pointed out through gritted teeth. “Agent McCree’s a great shot, but he needs to be more than that if he’s going to continue being an asset to the team. The Shimada affair was supposed to be his first go at something new.”

“Right. And now he’s being used as bargaining chip.”

Gabriel sighed through his nostrils and resisted the urge to rub at his temples to ward off his incoming headache. “I’m aware I screwed up,” he snapped. “And I take full responsibility for it. But spare me the lecture until we can get our agent back in one piece.”

Both reps exchanged glances. “One agent is not worth the risk of starting a massive war,” Osur said quickly, like he was ripping off a band-aid.

Gabriel stared at them. “That’s bullshit. If it had been me or Morrison who’d gotten nabbed, this would have been settled by now.”

“You’re right,” Petras said, earning shocked, angry looks from both Jack and Gabriel. “Some agents are held in higher regard than others. That is how it’s always been in this sort of business, gentlemen. It won’t start changing now.”

“But - ”

“You acted without first consulting the Security Council,” Petras snapped, finally losing his cool. “Overwatch has its share of freedom, of course, but I don’t think I have to remind you that the Shimada clan is one of the top concerns the council has these days. Whether infiltrating or attacking - you should have consulted the council first.” He sat back, rubbing his chin. “Some people might consider your actions suspicious. Some might outright consider it you attempting to go AWOL.”

Gabriel outright rolled his eyes. “Spare me the theatrics. We infiltrated that affair because the UN has been slacking in that regard and we needed to do something to slow the clan down before they started dabbling in human trafficking.”

Jack stepped in, steering the conversation back on track before it could truly get nasty. “Gentlemen, we’re not arguing over what happened - we’re asking for permission to get our agent back. The Shimadas sent a list of demands - ”

“We’ve seen their demands,” Osur said. “The United Nation’s collective decision is no, absolutely not.”

Though Gabriel knew that would be the answer, it still didn’t keep his stomach from dropping out of his ass. “You’re condemning Agent McCree to die,” he blurted, stepping forward as the last bit of his self-restraint snapped. “You won’t let us move in, you won’t let us at least try to negotiate with the clan - you’re condemning a twenty year old kid to die!”

Both representatives were silent. Petras looked stone-faced and resolute in his decision while Osur was staring at the table in front of them, clearly not content with the decision either but unable to say so.

Gabriel stared at them, slowly shaking his head. “How much has the clan paid you stuffy fucks already, huh?” he wondered out loud.

“Gabe,” he heard Jack mutter from behind him.

Deaf to the outraged sputtering from Petras, Gabriel cut the call, then plunged his fist through the monitor, sending sparks flying in every direction. He punched it again, then once more for good measure before Jack came over and wrapped his arms around his chest, yanking him away from the destroyed chunk of hardware before he could accidentally electrocute himself.

“We’ll get him back,” he said quietly, ushering Gabriel over to the closest chair. “The UN just said we couldn’t give into the clan’s demands. There are other ways of dealing with this.”

Gabriel sighed, totally and utterly defeated. Jack took his face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs along his cheekbones. “We will get him back,” he swore again. “Jesse is as much a part of Overwatch as you and I. I know the others won’t rest until we have him back, too. For now, though, you need to sleep. You won’t be much help if you’re running on fumes.”

That wrenched a grim chuckle out of the strike commander. “How am I supposed to get any shuteye when all I can think about is how much I’ve failed that stupid kid?” he muttered.

“You’ve only failed him if we can’t get him back.”

Gabriel snorted. Beneath the layers of pessimism and self-loathing, he knew Jack was right; he’d been doing his damnedest to straighten Jesse out since the day he signed his adoption papers. Some extreme progress had been made in the two and a half years he’d had the kid under his wing, but what the fuck did all that matter now?

“Look at me, soldier.” Jack hooked his finger on Gabriel’s chin, forcing him to make eye contact with him. There was a fire in his gaze that made Gabriel’s heart swell. “You are Gabriel Reyes, Strike Commander of Overwatch, tactical genius and the love of my life. You didn’t earn those titles for nothing. We _will_ get Jesse back.”

After regarding his other half for a moment, Gabriel sighed and leaned into him, grateful for the support. “What would I do without you here to kick my ass into gear, huh?”

Jack flashed him a bright smile. “I’m sure you’d do just fine.”

“Even so.” Gabriel drew him into his lap, his face buried in his chest. “Don’t go anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to mention real fast that I had this entire story written before the Uprising comic and game mode, so Reyes' voice/attitude might come off far rougher than it truly is. I hope y'all can enjoy anyway. :>
> 
> Kudos and comments very appreciated! Feel free to come heckle me on tumblr, too.


	3. Chapter 3

Early one morning, Hanzo along with a gaggle of guards dragged Jesse into the meeting room. He could barely walk on his own, too malnourished, and didn’t protest when they chucked him into an uncomfortable metal chair in front of the large monitor bolted into the wall. He picked his head up long enough to notice Gabriel on the screen along with Jack and Liao lurking in the background.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Hanzo said once everyone was settled in. “I trust you’ve come bearing some news for us.”

“The UN has looked over your list of demands,” Gabriel said, keeping his tone neutral.

“I’m assuming they weren’t impressed,” Hanzo mused.

Gabriel nodded. “They declined.”

“And what say you, Strike Commander?”

Gabriel’s eyes darted away for a moment - a signal for Liao to reach over and type something quickly into one of the consoles. Scrambling the audio, Jesse dimly realized. They were fucking up the recordings on their end so the UN couldn’t listen to them later and hear what they were about to say next.

Gabriel looked back to the camera. “We’ve got some schematics we can send your way,” he said. “I’ve also arranged to have the squads monitoring two of your trading routes in North Carolina stand down.”

Hanzo hummed, nodding. “It’s a start.”

“The UN’s already on high alert, so we can’t risk going all-out. Not yet. But we hope it’s enough to ensure Agent McCree’s safety.”

“For now,” Hanzo agreed. “Have your men stop monitoring the routes in New York and we might consider removing his shackle when he sleeps.”

Gabriel scowled and let his eyes shut for a moment. Jesse hated seeing him so goddamned powerless. “Fine,” he grunted. “But only the minor ones. I told you - ”

“Yes, yes, the UN is aware that you might act on your own.” Hanzo waved him off, apparently bored of the conversation now. “We will be in contact with you in a few days. Hopefully you will come bearing more good news.”

Gabriel nodded stiffly. “May I have a word with him?” he asked, trying to wrangle his voice into something submissive. “In private? Or as private as it can be, I guess.”

Hanzo pursed his lips, thoughtful, then shrugged and gestured to the rest of the room’s occupants to file out. “Don’t say anything I wouldn’t,” he said right before shutting the door. One guard stayed behind, his face expressionless and his posture almost lax.

Gabriel waited until his own people also left the room. “Jesse?” he asked quietly.

He picked his head up, on alert for orders even when half-asleep. He blinked up at the screen to find Gabriel frowning down at him, arms folded across his chest. Normally that was his “I’m fuckin’ annoyed with you” stance, but with his lips a thin line and his brows furrowed, he only looked concerned.

“Howdy,” Jesse rasped.

His boss clicked his tongue. “You look like shit. Are they not feeding you?”

“They’re tryin’.”

Gabriel’s brows fell flat in a scow. “Eat, you idiot,” he groused. “They won’t try to poison you again. They need you in one piece if they want these negotiations to come through.”

“I know,” Jesse told him, shrugging. “I don’t care about that. I’m protestin’ all this stupid shit is all.” He took that moment to glance around the room under the guise of emphasis, using that moment to observe the one one guard still monitoring him from the doorway. He was wearing sunglasses, so it was impossible to tell whether or not he was really even paying attention to their conversation

“Well, knock it off,” Gabriel ordered. “I know this sucks, but cooperate.”

Jesse eyed his superior for a moment, taking note on his stance, his expression. “You plannin’ somethin, boss?” he asked in Spanish.

Before Gabriel could answer, the guard by the door leapt into action, bringing his baton down on Jesse’s upper back. Dimly he heard Gabriel yelling over the line, but it was all garbled nonsense to Jesse’s foggy mind. Another blow struck him across the face, bringing him crashing to the floor, and when he tried to defend himself, the baton slammed into his hand, snapping it to the side.

The door on the other side of the room swung open, revealing more guards and a wide-eyed Hanzo, who blinked down at Jesse’s battered form. “What did he do?” he asked.

“Conversed to Commander Reyes in Spanish,” the guard responsible for beating Jesse replied, trying to justify his bullshit action.

Jesse spat out a wad of blood near the guard’s shoe. “A simple ‘stop that’ would’ve been fine,” he groused, glowering up at him.

He was ignored, of course, and dragged back to his cell without further ado. The pain of his beating caught up with him before too long, leaving him with a massive headache and an inkling that his hand might be busted, or at the very least sprained. He dragged himself into the bathroom and winced at the sight of himself in the mirror. His one eye was swollen shut, and there was a large bruise beginning to form on his cheekbone. His back probably looked just as bad, if not worse.

He pulled himself into the shower and sat under the scalding water for a long time, knees drawn to his chest as best as he could with his one leg having to dangle over the rim of the tub thanks to the stupid goddamned shackle.

He might have cried a little, sitting there all alone in a battered body. The shower washed away any evidence of this, though it couldn’t rinse away the intense feeling of defeat. Knowing that the UN didn’t give two shits about him was making it really hard for him to believe that he was going to be rescued.

He wanted to have faith - in Gabe if no one else. But fuck, it was hard.

Jesse didn’t hear the door to his cell open until Hanzo was rapping his knuckles on the bathroom doorframe. “Hurry and get out,” he ordered.

Jesse did so, scrubbing away the last bit of his tears and entering the bedroom stark naked and dripping wet, too tired to give a shit. Hanzo wrinkled his nose at him, but it was nothing he hadn’t seen before. He threw the bathrobe at him, then gestured to the tray of food he had laid out on the floor by the foot of the bed. Instead of it being layered in fine-looking food as usual, it was stacked with cooking utensils and packaged portions.

“Everything you need to make yourself a meal,” Hanzo explained. “And if you die from eating any of it, you have only your poor cooking skills to blame.”

Jesse already knew the clan didn’t plan on poisoning him anymore. The lengths Hanzo was willing to go in an attempt to get him to eat would have been almost touching if he hadn’t been their goddamned bargaining chip.

Wordlessly he donned the bathrobe and sat down in front of the tray. He didn’t know shit about cooking let alone how the hell one was supposed to make authentic Japanese cuisine, but Hanzo was there to verbally help him along when he needed it. His busted hand made it difficult to open the packages - something Hanzo immediately took note on.

He reached out and took the package from his grasp, opened it, then passed it back to him. Jesse continued where he left off until he had a small pot of noodles cooking and a wad of rice in the rice cooker. He watched them for a while, too mentally and physically exhausted to do much else.

Eventually Hanzo reached for his swollen hand. Jesse’s first instinct was to shirk away from the touch, but he heard Gabriel’s voice in his head: Cooperate.

“That guard should not have done this,” Hanzo mumbled eventually, using his other hand to smooth over the reddened skin. The pressure stung a little, but it was manageable. “Though to be fair, you should not have attempted to communicate in Spanish to your superior.”

Jesse let Hanzo hold his hand for a minute more before he slowly withdrew it, bringing it to his lap. He could be amicable, he thought bitterly, but only just.

When the food finally cooked, Jesse ate it slowly, knowing his stomach would need to adjust to having food in it after being empty for so long. It was good, but it brought him little comfort. He felt defeated all over again, like he’d given in.

It didn’t help that Hanzo, the bastard, just continued to watch him, a bemused smile on his handsome face. “When I first met you, you had problems keeping your mouth shut,” he commented after a while. “And yet now you force yourself into silence. Surely it must be difficult.”

Jesse didn’t bother swallowing his mouthful of noodles before answering. “Ain’t got nothin’ to say to you,” he said, spraying broth and saliva across the table at him.

Hanzo merely smirked. “It will be easier for you here if you just give in,” he said, rising to his feet. “Eat when you are told to and don’t break any rules. Should be simple enough even for a miscreant like you.”

Jesse glared at him as he finished the last of his meal and pushed the tray at Hanzo’s feet hard enough to spill some leftovers on his shoes.

The heir merely wrinkled his nose and made for the door. He paused in the threshold and turned to send him a smug look from over his shoulder. “Buenas noches, Jesse,” he told him.

He left. Jesse felt cold, the warmth from the meal no longer a comfort in his belly.

* * *

The next morning, Hanzo came to rouse the prisoner with a doctor to look at his hand. Of course Jesse seemed as far from grateful as possible, but he didn’t protest the manhandling if it meant getting some relief. His hand had swollen terribly overnight.

“Sprained,” Hanzo informed him as the doctor began to wrap his hand in thick bandages. “You will recover in a few days if you don’t over-exert it.”

“Joy,” Jesse muttered. “S’not like this is my dominant hand or anythin’.”

“You should have thought about that before attempting to speak to your superior in Spanish,” Hanzo reminded him. He turned to the doctor and spoke for his ears only: “Give him the strongest painkillers you have.”

The doctor obeyed, leaving Jesse with two chalky white pills to swallow with a mouthful of tap water to wash them down. Hanzo left with the doctor, did a few laps of the castle grounds, then returned about an hour later to find the Overwatch agent exactly how he’d hoped: drugged out of his mind.

“Howdy,” Jesse slurred, lifting a limp hand to wave at him from his spot on the bed. “What time is it?”

The question caught Hanzo off guard. “Almost noon,” he said, tentatively coming closer.

“High noon?”

“I...don’t know?” Hanzo shook his head, planting himself on the edge of the bed. “Lunch will be served at the regular time, if that’s what you’re asking. How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Jesse drawled, smiling wide. “Real good. Inside and out. Like I’m actually a good person.” He patted his chest over his heart. "Right here."

“Are you not?” Hanzo asked, only partially joking.

“Yes. No. I dunno.” Jesse wrinkled his nose and stared at a spot on the ceiling. “I guess, like, I’ve always wanted to do good? Just didn’t have the means. Gang’s all I had. Ma was in it, Pa was in it before it got ‘em both killed. Didn’t know I had other options ‘til Overwatch came n’ fucked shit up.”

They hadn’t been able to find any information on Jesse’s parents during their research, so this new information was titillating. Hanzo wondered what else he could pry out of him. For all he knew, Jesse was a wealth of knowledge.

“And what was that day like?” Hanzo asked. Anything he could use to get even more of an upper hand on Overwatch would be graciously welcomed.

“Awesome,” Jesse blurted as he sat up, grinning. “Terrifyin’. Y’know I almost popped one right in Gabe’s smug face? Bastard was lucky I was shakin’ too hard to aim straight.” He made finger guns and mimicked shooting, squinting one eye shut.

Hanzo smirked and propped his chin up on his hand. “And now you work for him.”

“Yeah! And he’s - he’s such a hardass, y’know? Ran my ass ragged for the first year and a half they had me. But they take care of their agents. I was able to eat food every day.” He leaned forward, wide-eyed. “ _Every day_! I couldn’t wrap my head ‘round it at first. In Deadlock, if you didn’t pull your weight, you didn’t eat. Plain n’ simple. But with Overwatch, all I have to do is just, like. Exist. And do what they tell me to do. And I get fed! Every day!”

“Oh.” Hanzo was uncomfortable now, knowing that Jesse hadn’t had the luxury of something as simple as food. This was not the kind of information he’d been hoping to get out of him.

“But - but yeah, Gabe, he’s - he likes to think he’s tough - and he is - but he’s also, like.” Jesse rotated his hand, struggling to formulate his fuzzy thoughts. “He saved me? I guess? I didn’t think about it that way at the time, but yeah, he’s been real good to me. Trainin’ me, settin’ me straight n’ all that. Well,” he paused to chuckle and send Hanzo a leery look. “Not _that_ sort of straight, heh.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but Jesse beat him to it was another barking laugh.

“Oh, oh, I used to have the biggest crush on Jack,” he said in between giggles. “Gabe got so irritated when he found out, oh man. Bless his stupid heart. Like I have a chance with anyone, never mind Overwatch’s second in command.”

Hanzo tilted his head, confused. “I find that hard to believe,” he said, if only because he was confident that Jesse wouldn’t remember much once the drugs wore off. “You can be very charming when you put your mind to it. And keep the strange southern slang to yourself.”

“Aw what? My charm comes from my southwestern roots,” he argued, still grinning. “They worked on you, didn’t they? Mister tall glass of water?”

Hanzo scoffed. “Barely.”

“Got you to fuck me, didn’t it?”

Yet again, the conversation was taking a turn in a direction Hanzo was loathe to head in. “You know I…” He sighed as Jesse swayed again, flopping over onto the mattress with another peal of giggles. “I truly hope you don’t think I forced you to bed me. I saw you were uncomfortable, and I did try to make it easy for you. It was not my intention to...to make you feel like...” He threw his hands up in defeat. “I’m sorry for that.”

Jesse was silent for a moment, and Hanzo wondered if he had finally passed out. Then he was sitting up abruptly, eyes wild. “What time is it?” he asked.

Hanzo sighed. “High noon.”

“Yee-haw!” Jesse crowed, leaping to his feed and slapping his knee with his bad hand. “Ah - ow, ow!”

“Idiot,” Hanzo chided, reaching up to take his hand gently between his own. “You should get some sleep.Your hand will be sprained forever at this rate.”

“But then you’ll keep holdin’ it,” Jesse said, flashing him that stupidly endearing grin.

Hanzo released him immediately, feeling his cheeks burn. “It’s time for me to go,” he babbled, standing up. “And for you to sleep. Good night, Jesse - ”

“Oh, wait, wait!” Jesse exclaimed, moving to pull something out from under his pillow. “Got somethin’ for you, darlin’.”

Hanzo reluctantly held his hand out, and Jesse dropped the two pain pills into his palm, only slightly dissolved and speckled with lint from the pillows. Hanzo stared at them, then at Jesse, too gobsmacked to say anything.

The man just sneered and laid back against the headboard, arms folded across his chest. “Nice try.”

* * *

Gabriel hadn’t expected to be woken up at four in the morning by Athena blaring in his ear that the Shimada clan was hailing them. It had only been a day since their last conversation; his blood turned cold as he wondered if they had changed their minds about the deal. He’d done what he could, dammit - he wouldn’t be any help to Jesse if he got court-martialed.

By the time he’d donned his uniform and sprinted to the meeting room with Jack at his heels, the monitor was already displaying the room in Hanamura. Jesse was there, too, his eye blackened and face bruised and hand wrapped, but thankfully still alive.

Hanzo looked especially irritated with Jesse for whatever reason, though that might have just been because the kid was looking unusually smug. Gabriel had to refrain himself from asking, knowing it probably wouldn’t do anyone any good.

“You rang?” he said, clearing the sleep from his throat.

“Don’t look so frightened, Strike Commander,” Hanzo practically spat. He was wearing a smile now, though it was so cold Gabriel immediately decided that he much preferred the kid angry. “We haven’t reconsidered your generous offering. We appreciate that you’re working with us. Unfortunately, your agent has stopped taking your own advice to heart and has become quite the nuisance.”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “He’s just pissed I tricked him into thinkin’ I was high on pain meds,” he explained, shrugging. “Thought I’d start spewin’ all of Overwatch’s secrets. But you taught me better than that, eh, jefe? Hid the pills under my tongue.”

_Good boy_ , Gabriel thought, trying not to smirk. “You're supposed to be cooperating with them,” he told him.

“And I was - ‘til he tried to drug me,” Jesse argued back.

“Those pain pills I gave you were the less painful method of interrogation,” Hanzo commented lightly. “We have other means of getting you to talk.”

“Oh? Lay ‘em on me, darlin’.”

Hanzo chuckled. “I hope that confidence of yours serves you well,” he said. “You are going to need it for this.”  
  
Jesse cocked a brow as two guards came forth and slapped handcuffs on him, strapping his hands down to the arms of the chair. “Kinky,” he said, smirking at Hanzo. “Can we not get down and dirty in front of my boss, though? Kinda awkward.”

Hanzo ignored his sass. Another guard came forth with a capped syringe filled with a clear liquid. Hanzo took it from him and removed the cap, pushing the end of the syringe to send some of the liquid spritzing out.

Truth serum, Gabriel noted. He had been the victim of a shot once or twice and knew how awful it was, being forced to spit out what your brain knew was the truth just to cool the fire rushing through your veins. There was no other way to dampen it.

There wasn’t much Jesse could tell them that would be of any use, but Jesse didn’t seem to realize that as he started to struggle and yell at Hanzo to piss off. The guards were on him instantly, one of them grabbing him in a headlock so Hanzo could easily stick the syringe into the side of Jesse’s neck. The kid screeched out protests up until the needle pierced his skin, then he slumped forward, shuddering and gasping.

Hanzo leaned down close to Jesse and told him, “I’ll give you a minute to get adjusted.” He left with the guards, apparently not even worried about Jesse trying to escape in such a state.

“Wh-what’d they give me?” Jesse immediately blurted. He was already starting to sweat, and the fact that he was panicking surely didn’t help ease the encroaching pain any. “More poison? Fuck, it’s burning…”

“Truth serum, probably,” Gabriel told him, putting on his Calm Commander Voice. “Listen, there’s no point in try to resist it - ”

“But what if I tell them important shit?” Jesse was babbling now, his gaze wild and distant, which was more of an effect of his anxiety than the drugs at the moment. “Fuck - I didn’t know they had this shit - Gabe, what if I - ”

“There’s nothing you can tell them that’ll compromise anything,” Gabriel told him. He could hear himself getting more distressed. “You remember those breathing exercises Ana taught you to steady your aiming? You gotta try doing that now, kid. It’ll help.”

But Jesse seemed deaf to him now; he started sucking in air rapidly through his clenched teeth and ducked his head, stomping his foot on the floor. “Fuck, fuck!” he yowled, rattling his chains. “It’s burning - ”

“Jesse,” Gabriel stressed, “you need to calm down or it’s only going to get worse - ”

The door swung open then, revealing Hanzo flanked by his entourage of guards. The kid was staring down at his phone, his lips pursed with mild irritation, before he finished texting whoever and addressed the room’s other occupants. Gabriel hated how nonchalant he was being about everything, and so did Jesse, if his murderous expression was any indication.

“You look uncomfortable,” Hanzo mused, smirking down at the sweaty, red-faced American. “Do you know what would ease that pain a little? If you tell me what your name is.”

“Fuck off, you know what it is,” Jesse choked out through gritted teeth. Gabriel wanted to keep telling him to stop resisting for his own sake, but he knew it would be a useless endeavor now.

“What is your name?” Hanzo asked again.

“Fuck - ” Jesse sucked in a heaving breath, rattling the handcuffs against the chair arms as he spasmed. “J-Jess. Jesse McCree.”

Hanzo’s smirk widened. “What is your name?”

“Juh.” Jesse shook his head rapidly, squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, but there was no escaping the pain - not unless he told the truth. “J-Joel. Joel Rivera.”

Gabriel’s brows shot to the top of his head, but he said nothing. He had his suspicions that Jesse had given him a false name when he recruited him, but it hadn’t bugged him then and it didn’t bug him now.

It seemed to bug Jesse, though. The kid choked on a sob as fat tears started dribbling down his cheeks. “Fuck - fuck you, _fuck_ \- ”

“What is the code to open the doors at the Overwatch headquarters in Zurich?” Hanzo continued, sounding bored.

“Six-zero-nine-four-three,” Jesse said through another sob. The words were coming easier now, faster. The serum was too much for him to resist anymore. “Pl-plus a fingerprint and retinal scan.”

“Are all the number codes the same throughout?”

“No. That,” Jesse shuddered, “that’s just the code for the main doors and the dockin' bay.”

Hanzo hummed. “How does one access the armory?”

And so it continued, Jesse being forced to spit out semi-useless information about Overwatch, its numerous bases, and its agents. Gabriel stood silently with his comrades and watched it all, stone-faced and hating every second of this. Codes could be changed, locations either abandoned or reinforced. But this sort of violation - and it was one of the worst kinds as far as Gabriel was concerned - was beyond traumatizing, and Jesse had been through enough, goddammit.

As Gabriel predicted, Hanzo’s questions became more personal. “What’s your mother like?” he asked.

Jesse twitched. He’d clenched his hands so tightly that his nails were digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. “I-I don’t know.”

Hanzo fisted his hair, yanking his head back hard enough to make Jesse yelp. “Tell me about your mother,” he stressed.

Jesse’s breaths were coming out through gritted teeth. “Don’t remember,” he gritted out again. “Dark hair. Smoker. Slapped me around when I was too mouthy. Dead.”

Hanzo hummed, frowning but seemingly satisfied that Jesse was telling the truth. “All right then,” he said, releasing his hold on Jesse’s scalp. “Tell me: what does the great Jesse McCree fear the most?”

At that, Jesse’s jaw twitched and shifted - a telltale sign that he was definitely in the process of attempting to bite off his own tongue.

“Jesse!” Gabriel snapped, startling the kid to attention. “It’s okay, Jess. It’s okay.”

Jesse’s face scrunched up with another wave of tears. He ducked his head, sniffling. “Th-that I’ll be a disappointment to the team,” he said quietly. “To Gabe. That they’ll abandon me like everyone else in my life has.”

Gabriel had to bite his own tongue to keep from speaking.

Finally, ten more minutes into the torture, Hanzo deemed it humiliating enough and waved at the guards to take Jesse back to his cell. Gabriel tried to make eye contact with him before he was dragged off, to offer him an encouraging nod, but the kid was barely more than a limp noodle now, his eyes wide and pupils blown from a combination of the drugs and being emotionally drained.

Yet, when the guards dragged him past Hanzo, Jesse found the strength to hack a mouthful of spit right into his face. “I hate you,” he spat viciously. “No serum required for that.”

Hanzo just snorted and wiped the spit away with a handkerchief one of his guards offered him. As most of the others filed out of the room, Hanzo went to end the call to Overwatch HQ.

“Wait,” Gabriel said.

The kid paused, hand over the end call button, and sent Gabriel a bland look.

“What was the point of all that?” he asked, barely managing to keep his voice a low, threatening rumble. “You’re already in control of this entire situation. That was unnecessary.”

“Consider it a reminder,” Hanzo said. “For you and for your agent. We are willing to wait for you to organize things on your end, but we have our limits. Perhaps now Agent McCree will attempt to remember this.”

“He doesn’t respond well to be attacked like that.” Threats, yes, especially if presented with proof. Promising him a lengthy jail sentence had been the first step in getting him to work with them back in the day. After that, it had been about trust - something which Jesse definitely didn’t have anymore for Hanzo. “Any hope you had of him cooperating just dwindled to zero.”

“Then we will continue to use unorthodox methods keep him in line.”

“Look,” Gabriel all but babbled, “the UN doesn’t care about one low-ranked agent. They’ve made that crystal clear. But if you switch him out with someone like me, they would have no choice but to cooperate fully.”

Behind him, he heard Jack hiss through his teeth, “Gabe, what are you doing?”

“You’d have your schematics and trade routes cleared,” he continued, “probably within a few weeks. Who knows what else the UN would offer you to get me back in one piece.”

Hanzo blinked up at him, truly surprised by his offer. “You care for this ingrate,” he mused. “All the more reason to hang onto him, I suppose. You see, we don’t care if the United Nations is involved with negotiations. Overwatch has those schematics. Overwatch is monitoring our trade routes. Having power over you is far more impressive than a bunch of overpaid UN members...many of which we already know quite personally.”

Gabriel wrinkled his nose up in a scowl as the last of his patience fled. “You’re a sick bunch of bastards.”

Hanzo just smirked. “Besides,” he continued, “we know you’ve already got scouts stationed in the city. We know the only thing keeping you from storming our grounds is the fact that you don’t know exactly where we’re holding your agent. As worthless as you consider him to be, he still has his uses.” He offered Gabriel a distant smile. “You will know when those uses have run out. Sleep well, Commander. We’ll be in touch.”

He cut the call, plunging the meeting room into darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note: I guess I should have predicted all the “kill Hanzo/mchanzo is dead” comments, but I want to remind y’all that Hanzo is still heavily under the influence of the clan at this time. As we don’t really know how he acted back in his yakuza days, I’ve taken some liberties with his personality, attitude, etc. That’s not to dismiss his actions - he’s a shitbird - but please keep all this in mind. :)
> 
> ALSO in this chapter I introduce my take on Hanzo and Genji's mother, so I'm curious to see what y'all think of her. Cheers!

Genji was home and he was not happy about it.

But it couldn’t be helped, he supposed. He was out of money and bored with Hanamura again, so his best choice of action was to come back home and be an annoyance until his father had pity on him, gave him his credit card, and sent him off again out of everyone’s hair.

At least, that had been the plan. He hadn’t expected to stumble upon a handful of guards storming through one of the main halls with a half-conscious man dangling from their grasp. It wasn’t often the clan had prisoners - those who owed money or needed a good beating were usually dealt with promptly and out of sight - so he was understandably intrigued.

He fell into pace with the guards and eyed the man they were holding. Young, maybe a little older than Genji was, and not from around here. Interesting indeed.

“You are a new face,” Genji commented in English, offering the man a disarming grin. “Who are you?”

“Jesse McCree,” the man answered immediately. Genji took note of his wide eyes, the way they stared through him instead of at him. His skin was flushed red, and he was sweating despite the cool air of the room.

Genji straightened up and looked at the guards. “Truth serum?”

“Yes,” one of them answered. “Master Hanzo just got done interrogating him.”

Genji nodded, frowning with mild disgust. Of all of their interrogation techniques, that had to be his least favorite, though he supposed it was better than breaking fingers or waterboarding.

He waited for the guards to deliver Jesse to his cell, then made his way inside with a quick swipe of his thumb on the biopad lock. The guy was slumped against the wall by the bathroom, his one leg extended after being manhandled by the guards so they could slap a shackle on it. The shellshocked look on Jesse’s face was still present even though he’d hid it behind his arms.

“No cure for serum,” Genji told him, “but a cold shower will help.”

Jesse didn’t protest the idea. He was clad in an unbuttoned shirt and a pair of pants that looked too big on his skinny hips; Genji wasn’t sure if he had been given him anything else to wear, so he wasn’t about to dump him in the shower with them on. There was just one problem: he couldn’t take the pants off with the shackle strapped to his ankle.

“Are you a dangerous man, Jesse?” he asked.

Jesse said nothing, probably because he didn’t know or wasn’t in his right mind to answer. He certainly didn’t look dangerous at the moment, all huddled and small in the corner.

Genji fingered the shackle for a moment, then decided to hell with it. A swipe of his thumb along the side of it was enough for the biolock to register and open with a small clink.

“Better, eh? I’m going to take these off,” he cautioned, picking at his pant leg. “Is that okay?”

Again Jesse said nothing, just offered him a tired blink. Genji disrobed him swiftly yet carefully, then led him into the bathroom. He wrinkled his nose up at how small and ill-equipped the place was for something as simple as washing. At least there was a toothbrush.

He helped Jesse into the tub and watched as the guy immediately curled into another ball in the corner, putting as much space between himself and Genji as possible. Genji frowned at him, but he certainly couldn’t blame him for his reaction. Who knows what else the clan had put him through?

Well, there would be time for questions later once the serum was flushed from his system. Genji reached over to turn the shower on. The second the cold spray hit him, Jesse let out a startled, painful noise and immediately tried to climb out of the tub, but Genji pushed him back.

“You will feel better,” he said again. “It will drench that fire inside you.”

Jesse shuddered violently and curled in on himself as best as he could, resigned to his cold fate for the time being.

As he soaked, Genji sat back against the toilet and observed him. “What color is the sky?”

“Blue,” Jesse said, picking his head up a little to send Genji a confused, tired look.

Genji hummed. “Do you like dogs?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s your favorite food?”

Jesse cracked a small smile. “All the stuff I probably shouldn’t eat.”

Genji grinned. “Me too!”

He kept asking Jesse little useless questions, all while subtly adjusting the temperature of the water. When it became apparent that the serum had worn off for the most part, Genji left him to gather himself, turning his attention to the miserable room he’d been forced to live in for the past who-knows-how-long. It wasn’t the worst cell they had to offer, but the American must have been bored out of his mind when he wasn’t being tortured or force-fed truth serum. Not even a book to read!

“Terrible,” he told the man when he finally surfaced from the shower. “What do you do all day? Sleep?”

Jesse blinked at him and gripped his bathrobe tighter around his chest. “Not much else to do,” he mumbled.

“Terrible,” Genji said again, clicking his tongue as he sat himself cross-legged in the middle of the bed. “I would suggest a room change, but you are not my responsibility.”

Jesse continued to stare. “Why’d you help me?” he rasped quietly.

Genji just shrugged. “You don’t seem dangerous. Just sad. And,” he added with a wink, “I have weakness for cute boys.”

That got a small chuckle out of the man, and his stance became less tense. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time my good looks have spared me,” he admitted.

Without the truth serum controlling his tongue, Genji felt more inclined to question him. “You are American? From the south? You talk like the cowboys in those old movies I saw once.”

“Thereabouts, yeah,” Jesse said. He blinked, considering the shorter man in front of him. “And you - you’re a Shimada, right? Don’t think they’re in the habit of givin’ their servants swords.”

“Genji,” he said, ducking his head in a half-assed bow. “Not surprised you haven’t heard of me. I believe the proper term is ‘black sheep’?”

“I’ve heard of you,” Jesse corrected him. Genji could see him relaxing even more now, though he was still wary of the weapons strapped to Genji’s back. Smart man. “Nice to put a face with your name - especially a face as handsome as yours.”

Genji grinned, both startled and pleased by the sudden flirting. “Oho! A charmer,” he said, laughing. “Tell me - how did we acquire such a gentleman?”

At that, Jesse wrinkled his nose. “I botched a mission,” he muttered.

That had Genji’s attention. He leaned forward, eyes wide. “Are you a spy?”

“Nah, I’m just a grunt with Overwatch. It was supposed to be my first undercover gig.”

Just when he thought this man couldn’t get more interesting. “Overwatch!” Genji exclaimed with a laugh. “I have heard about you! The global peace keeping organization, yeah? And you were sneaking around in what - that dumb party my family threw in New York the other day? What were you hoping to find?”

“Anythin’ we might’ve been able to use to get y’all outta the States,” Jesse admitted, shrugging. “You guys are gettin’ too big for your britches over there, or so I’ve been told.”

“Big for - what? Is that another cowboy saying? You need to teach me all of them.”

That got another laugh out of Jesse, complete with a small, toothy grin. “I got a million of ‘em,” he said. “Maybe you’ll like them more than your asshole brother.”

“Ah, he is a lot to handle, isn’t he?” Even Genji had trouble handling him sometimes, though mostly as of late now that he had the elders on top of their parents pressuring him into being the perfect little clan leader.

“That’s one way of puttin’ it,” Jesse spat, mood tanking almost instantly.

Genji put his chin in his hands. “He caught you? How?”

Jesse just shrugged. “I dunno, I thought I had a handle on it,” he muttered. Genji didn’t miss the sudden tinge of pink on his cheeks or the way Jesse resolutely refused to look at him.

“You know,” Genji said, smirking and leaning forward into Jesse’s space, “in those spy movies, sometimes the hero gets caught by sleeping with the enemy. Did you sleep with my brother at that party, Jesse?”

The pink tinge on the cowboy’s cheeks turned to a marvelous shade of red. “No!”

Genji reared back, cackling. “No need to lie! I am just surprised he let himself have a little fun before getting back to business.”

“Well, he had fun all right,” Jesse muttered, still red in the face. “Pretty sure he had more fun poisoning me and mocking me on my poor performance right after, though.”

“That does sound more like my brother.” Genji could tell Jesse was sick of talking about him, so he swiftly changed the subject. “Will you tell me more of your adventures in Overwatch? I will bring you magazines to read in exchange.”

Jesse cracked a grin. “Throw in some cigarettes and you got yourself a deal, pardner.”

* * *

Hanzo found out his brother had come home when he walked into Agent McCree’s cell to find the two of them conversing like they had been doing so for quite some time now. The sight took him by surprise, but jealousy and anger were quick to replace it.

“You are home,” he said to his brother, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed with Jesse. There were a stack of magazines between them - foolish, Hanzo thought, as they were all in Japanese.

“For a while now,” Genji replied in English. “Waiting for father to return before I head off again. Good to see you, brother.”

“I would return the sentiment if you had not sought out the company of this riffraff before taking the time to inform me you were here.”

Genji just shrugged and cracked a toothy grin. “He is cuter than you are.”

The smug look on Jesse’s face was enough to drive Hanzo away for the remainder of the day. Genji sought him out after lunch, bamboo shinai in hand. Hanzo did not need to be asked twice; there was a fire in his blood that had been yearning for a good fight for quite some time now, and Genji was the only one who could take what he wanted to dish out.

“I should demand an explanation from you,” he spat about half an hour into their sparring session when they were both sweaty and out of breath. As Hanzo had hoped, his brother was returning his aggression with quick, effective jabs of his own. His time away from the castle had not dampened his skill.

“What for?” Genji asked, batting his eyes innocently before ducking and dashing away from a flurry of strikes. “I leave home all the time without saying anything.”

Hanzo’s lips peeled back in a snarl. “For fraternizing with the enemy!” He brought his shinai down on Genji’s hand, making him hiss and cuss and hop backwards, waving it in the air. Hanzo huffed when he realized his brother had not known those words before today. “Is he teaching you English, then?”

His brother grinned through gritted teeth. “Only the words our tutor refused to teach me,” he admitted. “Like ‘assbag’ and ‘dickweed’ - both of which you are, by the way.”

“Creative,” Hanzo muttered, not bothering to veil his disgust. “You should not be speaking with him. He is dangerous.”

Genji just rolled his eyes. “He’s chained to the floor and bored out of his mind,” he argued. “Just like me.”

“If he is truly that bored, he would not order me out everytime I stop by.” Hanzo hadn’t meant to blurt that out, but he was too revved up to censor himself now.

Genji didn’t seem surprised by the statement. “You were the one who brought him here,” he mused, twirling his shinai. “I wouldn’t want to see your ugly mug either after you poisoned me and pumping me full of truth serum.”

Hanzo scowled at him, at the thought of Jesse. “The serum was his punishment for attempting to trick me,” he argued. “I have tried being kind. I even offered to let him walk around the grounds yesterday. He is...not receptive at all.”

“Strange that you would try so hard to appease someone who wants nothing to do with you,” Genji commented, wagging his eyebrows. “You know, he told me how he got captured. How was he? Are Americans as good in bed as they seem to think they are?”

Hanzo averted his gaze, trying to mask his embarrassment with disgust. “Genji…”

“What? You can’t blame me for being curious.”

“He seemed to think he was in charge until it came to actual sex. Definitely not as experienced as he made himself out to be.”

Genji hummed and blocked another swing. “So you took his virginity, poisoned him, and dragged him back here to be a hostage. And you’re saying he’s the dangerous one?”

Hanzo hated how Genji made it sound. “I do what I must for the clan,” he spat, taking another strike at his brother that he deftly dodged. “Which you would understand if you were ever around to contribute anything of your own.”

“I contribute by staying out of the way,” Genji said simply, shrugging. “Though you’re right - I should have been around for the banquet. If I had, I might have been the lucky one to bed the American, eh?”

“Genji!” Hanzo yelled, thwacking him none-too-gently with his shinai again.

A quiet knock at the threshold had both men standing down. A servant ducked her head in greeting and announced, “Your mother has returned home.”

Genji didn’t even try to hide his grimace. “And that is my cue to leave once more,” he said, bowing gracefully. “Give her my regards, won’t you, brother?”

Hanzo said nothing, just scowled at his brother’s back as he retreated out the door.

* * *

When Hanzo stormed into Jesse’s cell without so much as a hello, Jesse frowned and tossed one of Genji’s magazines at him. “If you ain’t got dinner, I ain’t interested,” he informed him promptly.

Hanzo countered his attack with one of his own: a small pile of laundry right to his face. “Wash up and get dressed,” he ordered.

Jesse scowled at him, but as he unfolded the clothes he’d been given, he couldn’t help but ask, “What’s the occasion?” No way he was getting this gussied up for another interrogation. He was pretty sure the eggshell-colored shirt was silk.

“My mother has returned from overseas,” Hanzo explained, moving to put some deodorant, shampoo, and a razor on the rim of the sink in the bathroom. “She wishes to meet you.”

Jesse wrinkled his nose up with disgust and confusion. “What the hell? I don’t wanna meet your _mother_.”

“I think she will be quite pleased with what I’ve done in terms of securing the deal with Overwatch,” Hanzo continued as if he hadn’t spoken. He came back into the room, and Jesse noticed for the first time his own snazzy attire, though his was far more eastern than his simple shirt and slacks. “One way or another you will be presented to her, so you might as well be amicable about it for everyone’s sake.”

Jesse eyed him, eyed the nice clothes in his lap, then decided to hell with it and headed into the bathroom with a grumble. He surfaced ten minutes later in his new threads, squeaky clean and already beyond irritated that he was being forced to do something so ridiculous.

“You did not shave,” Hanzo said as he sized him up.

“It took me three weeks to grow a goddamned stubble,” Jesse told him, folding his arms across his chest. “I ain’t shavin’ it for nobody, let alone the mother of the prick who took me hostage.” He tilted his head and sneered at the shorter, clean-faced man. “Though I guess that ain’t somethin’ you’d be able to appreciate, huh, babyface?”

Hanzo sent him a flat look, then slapped some handcuffs on him in a silent “fuck you.” Jesse glowered at him, but followed the man out the door and down the hall, knowing he had no choice.

Despite being with the clan for nearly a week, Jesse still hadn’t seen a good percentage of the castle, so when Hanzo led him into one of the main chambers, he couldn’t help but be impressed with the architecture and decor. The Shimada were terrible folks, but at least they had decent taste in that department.

Hanzo took him through a corridor that was open on the one side, exposing part of the exterior grounds in all its flourishing splendor. Jesse couldn’t help but stop and gaze at it. It was the first he’d seen of the outdoors since his capture, and damned if it wasn’t a sight for sore eyes.

“What do you think?” Hanzo asked softly. “Nice, is it not?”

“Gorgeous,” Jesse admitted. “Too bad it’s in the hands of scumbags like you.”

Hanzo merely chuckled and pulled him onwards. “This castle and its grounds have been in my family for generations,” he said. “That won’t change anytime soon.”

“We’ll see about that,” Jesse muttered, if only to try to get the last word in.

“Oh? Do you know something I don’t, Jesse McCree?”

Jesse sent him a flat look. “Please. I’ve been cooped up in that goddamned room for days now,” he snapped. “So you tell me, Shimada.”

“I will tell you this: I think you are a little nervous about meeting my mother,” Hanzo said, smirk widening. It was one of his amused sneers instead of his usual mocking ones, but it still got under Jesse’s skin.

“Fuck off.”

Hanzo merely chuckled. “Good, you should be. My father might be the face of the clan, but my mother is the backbone. Her word is law.”

“Good to know,” Jesse muttered as darkly as possible, already plotting out ways in his head to murder her and everyone else in this stupid clan.

He didn’t get very far in the planning stage; too soon they reached their destination in one of the quieter portions of the castle. There were two armed guards standing on either side of a shoji; they wordlessly slid it open for Hanzo and Jesse to pass through.

The first thing Jesse noticed was the room’s simple style - four shoji walls, a tatami floor, and a table piled high with bowls and dishes of delicious-looking food. He then noticed that the table was already occupied by a man and a woman - Mr. and Mrs. Shimada, both of whom Jesse had never seen before let alone met face to face.

Sojiro Shimada was a stern-faced, gray-haired man, probably in his late sixties, and dressed in traditional garb similar to Hanzo’s. Hanzo’s mother Matsu, on the other hand, was looking rather posh in a slim business suit. One word came to mind when Jesse looked at her: sharp. Sharp in her gaze, sharp in her looks, and probably sharp in wits if Hanzo’s word about her being the true leader of the clan was to be taken seriously.

Well, if he wasn’t nervous before, he certainly was now.

Hanzo made him kneel next to him and across from Matsu at the table, which certainly didn’t put him less at ease. He could hardly bring himself to look at the woman never mind address her, but who could blame him as she continued to drill holes through his flesh and bone with her mere gaze? He felt beyond naked, raw, exposed - and she hadn’t even said a word to him yet.

She eventually turned away, her dark eyes flicking to her son. They started to converse, no doubt talking shit about Jesse when he was sitting right there. Hanzo seemed eager to get his father interested in the conversation, but the man’s responses were short, his attention mostly focussed on his food or his own thoughts. The only time he spoke on his own, he mentioned Genji, which had Hanzo frowning and muttering a quiet explanation for the youngest Shimada’s absence. It was kinda sad watching how hard Hanzo was trying to please his father, so Jesse turned his gaze onto the stacks of food around him.

He reached for the closest bowl and knocked some cutlery off the table thanks to both hands being bound. Conversation stopped immediately; even Sojiro glanced up at him, his expression blank.

“Why is he bound?” Matsu asked her son in perfect English. Her voice was just as sharp as the rest of her.

“He is dangerous,” Hanzo replied.

That got a short, deep chuckle out of the woman. “He is one man,” she said, “thousands of miles away from home, surrounded by the most powerful people in the country, if not most of the world. Let him eat. If he wants to try his luck, that’s his choice.”

Hanzo obeyed without question, removing the shackles from Jesse’s wrists. Jesse uttered a few foul words under his breath as he did so, earning a scowl from the other man, but said nothing further in favor of loading his plate with food. He was quick to pick up the cutlery he’d knocked off the table, save for his fork, which he slipped into his sock without the family noticing.

Dinner continued, with Jesse zoning out for most of it due to not being able to comprehend the conversations happening around him. Partway through he noticed that it seemed like Hanzo and his mother were arguing a little, though Hanzo kept his gaze submissive and his answers short and quiet. Whatever he said must not have been to his mother’s liking, because suddenly her sharp eyes were on Jesse again, pinning him in place.

“We know everything there is to know about you, Jesse McCree,” she said, making it sound like a threat. “What makes no sense as far as I’m concerned is why the top special forces organization in the world would take in a wild desert child for training.”

Jesse stared at her, gobsmacked. “Uh.”

“There must be something about you worth having around. I want to know what that is.”

“I-I mean, I’m a pretty decent shot,” he offered lamely. “Best in Deadlock. I mean, I was.”

“Being a decent shot does not earn you a place in Overwatch’s ranks.”

“Well, beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but ain’t that a bit unfair? You ain’t seen me in action.”

That had her attention. She sat up straighter, fixed her unblinking eyes on him, and smirked.

That was how Jesse found himself standing in a small dojo, Hanzo’s mother off to the side with a servant there to hold her small glass of red wine while she fiddled with her phone. Hanzo stood across from him stripped down to the bare essentials of his outfit, which left him his pants.

“Ain’t I a little overdressed for this?” Jesse muttered, picking at his silk shirt. “S’gonna get ruined.”

“That is the least of your problems,” Hanzo told him as he lifted his fists.

Gabriel had been teaching him how to spar for years now; back when he first joined Overwatch, the older man had forced him to wake up an insane hours for a lesson or two. Now, years later, Jesse remained confident in his ability to kick some serious ass when he had to.

But Hanzo was still better. He countered every move Jesse tried, knocked his legs out from under him with careful, calculated sweeps time and time again. If Gabriel could see him now, he would be sorely disappointed in him, Jesse thought as he picked himself up off the floor for what felt like the hundredth time.

Hanzo hummed, tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear. Guy hadn’t even broken a sweat. “So this is what Overwatch has to offer in terms of agents,” he mused. “No wonder they haven’t tried harder to get you back.”

That was it - the spark needed to light the angry fire in Jesse’s veins. With a snarl, he hurled himself at Hanzo. There was no method to his attack, no finesse or execution of a special or specific move - just Jesse ramming his shoulder into Hanzo’s gut, knocking the wind out of him and tackling him onto the mat. Once Hanzo was pinned, Jesse wasted little time in pulling the fork out of his sock and lifting it above his head, intent on bringing it down on Hanzo’s dumbstruck face.

But before he could, a burst of pain across his hand made him yelp and drop the utensil. He had but a split second to look up at Matsu, who was still seated across the room, her wine in one hand and a set of small throwing knives in the other. Then Jesse’s world was tilting; Hanzo swiftly got the upper hand again and pinned him in his place, face-down on the mat with one arm twisted painfully behind his back.

“Hardly a challenge,” Hanzo spat, furious. “Even with the attempted murder.”

Jesse let out a noise akin to that of an enraged bull. “If I had a gun, y’all’d be dead,” he snarled, trying and failing to kick at the eldest Shimada son. “Every last one of you.”

Matsu just chuckled. “If there is one thing I am learning about you, it’s that you are all talk.”

“Not with this,” Jesse seethed, snapping his gaze to hers. “There’s a reason they bring me on missions that involve sharpshootin’.”

Matsu hummed, almost disinterested. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to see you humiliate yourself one more time,” she said, pausing to type something into her phone. “To the firing range, then.”

The firing range was right next door, which was probably the only reason why Matsu had decided to give Jesse a second chance to impress them all. To Jesse’s relief, Genji was in there, idly flicking some throwing stars at a battered training bot.

He straightened up when they came in, only to pale slightly at the sight of Matsu among the group. “Mother,” he muttered, lowering his gaze.

“Genji,” she returned blandly. “Your father has retired for the night and will be gone again by morning. Since I am assuming you’ve only come home for more money, I suggest you catch him before he leaves.”

“Noted,” Genji said, stiffly shrugging off his mother’s cold words. He noticed Jesse and perked up quite a bit. “Howdy, cowboy,” he drawled, tipping an imaginary hat at him. “What brings you to these here parts?”

Jesse couldn’t help but crack a grin at the act, made only more endearing by Genji’s thick accent and over exaggerated cowboy swagger. “They wanted to see a show,” he answered, jerking his head towards his mother and brother.

“And we’d better get one,” Matsu cut in, striding past them into the small observation room. “For your sake as well as my eldest’s.”

Jesse frowned at her, then at Hanzo. “Why you?”

The eldest Shimada son was red-faced and glowering at the ground, seemingly ashamed. Jesse was sure there was a good chunk of something he was missing completely thanks to the language barrier, but he really couldn’t bring himself to care how Hanzo was feeling.

Still, when Hanzo barged past them after his mother, Jesse couldn’t help but ask what his problem was.

“You are his responsibility,” Genji answered, shrugging. “The key to the deal with Overwatch or whatever. It is important that Hanzo make this work. But mother has her doubts, I’m sure - about you, about everything. She may try to step in if she isn’t pleased.”

Jesse scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Hate to disappoint,” he muttered.

“Then do not,” Genji suggested, missing the sarcasm. He made for the door, offering him a wave. “Adios, cowboy. _Ganbatte_.”

“W-wait,” Jesse blurted, “you’re not stayin’?”

Genji’s eyes flicked to the room where his mother and Hanzo were. They were visible through the bulletproof glass in the wall, stern-faced and nearly identical in posture. “No,” Genji replied, cracking a toothy grin. “I have already overstayed my welcome.”

Jesse watched him go, crestfallen and nervous all over again, until a guard handed him an empty revolver. Not his Peacekeeper by any means, but it would do. The guard wordlessly pointed at the shooting gallery, which was already loaded with several training bots.

He found a box of ammo waiting for him on a nearby table and quickly loaded six bullets into the revolver’s chamber. He took a moment to get a feel for it in his hands. He used to head to Overwatch’s practice range every day - once in the afternoon and once after dinner in the evenings - but it had been a week since he’d last held a gun never mind actually fired one. He was a damn good shot, but he didn’t doubt he’d be a little rusty. The fact that his dominant hand was still recovering from being sprained didn’t help matters either.

Still, he took out the handful of half stationary training bots without too much issue, planting one bullet in each of their metal craniums in rapid succession. They pulled themselves back together again shortly, and Jesse took them all down again and again.

Eventually he chanced a glance over at the Shimadas. Matsu did not look impressed. In fact, she was sitting there flicking through something on her phone instead of watching him shoot, and Hanzo was no different.

“Y’know, y’all wanted to see this to begin with,” he snapped, knowing they’d hear him. “The least you can goddamn do is watch.”

Matsu did not look up. “There is nothing fascinating about a man who can fire a gun with decent accuracy,” she informed him. “But if you’re so intent on proving yourself, here. A challenge.”

The five bots moved then, raising their arm cannons and pointing them right at him. Jesse let out a choked noise and dove for cover just in time, narrowly missing a volley of sweltering hot shots the bots hurled at him.

“Defend yourself,” Matsu said, finally looking at him through the glass, “or die.”

Jesse realized quite abruptly that he was down to the six shots he had in the revolve since the box of ammo was on the other side of the table, far out of his reach with the bots firing a constant volley at him. He’d only be allowed to miss one shot, so blind firing was not an option.

Well, there was one sure-fire way out of this, he knew, but it was a risk he wasn’t sure he was ready to take. Captain Amari had been helping him tame his Deadeye, but the skill was far from perfect. He’d done it successfully maybe once or twice in his life. The odds weren’t great that he’d be able to pull it off now.

But hell - when did he ever worry about odds?

When the firing stopped and the robots began to reload, Jesse rose from behind the table, his shoulders hunched and his head down. If he’d had his hat, he’d be looking up from under its rim, his face hidden in shadow.

Instead, the other room’s occupants got an excellent view of his reddened eyes, of the blood trickling out of the right one. Jesse felt no pain then - just the pull, the call. He was always loathe to resist it.

“It’s high noon,” he uttered just before fanning the hammer. He let the gun take over, made it an extension of himself as he planted a bullet in every robot, knocking all five of them offline instantly. They collapsed into smoldering, sparking piles, crying out in simulated pain. They wouldn’t be able to rebuild themselves this time.

He stood there for a moment, panting and trembling as his body struggled to deal with the after effects of Deadeye. He could feel the headache incoming, feel the hot blood trickling down his face from his nose and eye, but those were typical side effects. At least he hadn’t blacked out this time.

Inside the observation room, both Shimadas were staring at him through wide-eyes. If he’d been in a calmer state of mind, he might have offered them a cocky response or a sneer at the very least.

Instead, he turned on his heel and threw himself through the door, which was now unlocked thanks to the final well-placed bullet he’d blasted through the locking mechanism. Shouts erupted all around him as he bolted down the hall at full-speed, but he ignored them, trying to focus on retracing his steps. Why did this place have to have such long hallways?

Just as that thought flickered through his mind, something pierced his leg, bringing him crashing to the ground with an agonized scream. He looked down, eyes wild, only to let out another howl at the sight of a goddamned arrow sticking out of the back of his knee.

Hanzo strolled over to his thrashing form, unamused. His bow was still in his hand, though he wore no quiver on his back - too confident in his aim to think he’d need more than one arrow to take him down. “Clever,” he said, “hoping the two of us wouldn’t notice the sixth shot you fired. But ultimately foolish.”

Jesse was in too much pain to respond, snarling wordlessly through gritted teeth instead. He gripped at his knee, unable to bend it with the fucking arrow sticking out of it. He thought he felt the metal tip grinding against the bone, and that was nearly enough to make Jesse vomit all of his dinner.

Thankfully he managed to swallow it down just as Matsu appeared next to her son. “What a shame,” she said, sounding bored as she gently swirled the remnants of her wine. “You do have potential, I admit. Too bad it’s all going to go to waste.”

Jesse snorted, spitting some blood on the ground. “I’ll show you waste,” he snarled. “I’m gonna waste all of you bastards the first chance I get, I swear to god - ”

Matsu placed her heel against his knee, wrenching a strangled cry out of him. “Let me make this clear,” she began almost sweetly. “Negotiations are not moving in our favor. Or I suppose I should say your favor. Overwatch is being uncooperative with our demands, performing only the bare minimum to keep you alive. Our patience is running thin. They know this. They don’t seem to care.”

“You’re underestimatin’ ‘em,” Jesse gritted out out, “just like you underestimated me. They ain’t called the best tactical squad in the world for nothin’.”

She merely chuckled. “As effective as they are at countering terrorists and rogue omnics, they could stand to learn a thing or two about team loyalty. They might storm our castle and break down our ranks, but they won’t get you back alive at the rate they’re going.” She patted the side of his pale face. “I promise you this.”

Jesse swallowed hard and watched her mosey on down the hallway, for once at a loss for a comeback.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, it completely slipped my mind that I was supposed to update yesterday!!

“Well, _that_ went about as well as I thought it would.”

Ana and Jack rose to attention as Gabriel stormed into the room, throwing his cap aside and immediately shrugging out of his decorated uniform jacket. “What did our dear friends on the Security Council decide?” Ana asked him, sounding prepared for any and all bullshit.

“The three of us are on probation,” Gabriel replied, dropping heavily into the closet chair. “No major missions until further notice without explicit supervision. Oh, and suspended pay for a week, but who gives a fuck.”

Ana snorted and folded her arms across her chest. “And if we go against that order?”

Gabriel shrugged. “I’ll get demoted to janitorial duty,” he said. “If I’m lucky.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jack spat, steadily growing angrier. “They’ll court martial you? The man who led this team through more than a dozen successful world-changing missions without a hitch? The man who almost completely toppled Talon in one foul swoop?”

“ _Almost_ toppled.”

“You made a difference, Gabe! More than anyone ever has when it comes to this sort of thing - and they’re going to have you court-martialed because you can’t stand to leave a man behind?”

Gabriel just shrugged again, too emotionally drained to get angry anymore. “That’s what they said. They’ll kick my ass out and have you step in as Strike Commander.”

“Wh - me?” Jack blurted, anger vanishing in an instant only to return a second later. “Ridiculous. I won’t do it without you, Gabe.”

“Same,” Ana piped up. “And I doubt Reinhardt and Torbjörn and the rest of the squad would stand for it, either. We trust you more than anyone else to lead us.”

Gabriel scratched his fuzzy chin. “Huh. Well then, I guess we should start making plans to move in on Hanamura,” he said, only a little sarcastically.

“Already started,” Jack said, cracking a toothy smirk. “Reinhardt, Angela, and a portion of Delta Squadron are already at the temporary base our scouts set up a few days ago on the outskirts of town. Ana and I will be departing tomorrow afternoon.”

“Liao will be stationed here to reroute any and all calls to the new base,” Ana continued. “That includes scrambling IP addresses, GPS and satellite signals, all of it. No one will know we’re out of town - not even Petras or the rest of the UN.”

Gabriel stared at them, stunned and overwhelmed with emotion for his team. “Damn, and who said Overwatch would fail without me?” he said, laughing wetly.

“We didn’t say it would fail,” Jack said, shrugging. “We just don’t want to be led by anyone but you.”

“Shut up, you’re gonna make me cry.”

The sweet moment was ruined by the monitor lighting up with an incoming call sign. “Incoming call from Hanamura, Japan,” Athena announced in tandem.

Gabriel was instantly on his feet. “Are we scheduled for a meeting today?”

“No,” Ana replied tersely, tapping the answer call button.

The interior of the interrogation room at the Shimada castle came into view with a quiet beep. Jesse was there along with Hanzo and the typical gaggle of guards. Gabriel noted the bandage wrapped around McCree’s knee, which the kid seemed to be favoring, and the startling amount of half-dried blood on his face, specifically around his nose and eye area.

“Deadeye,” Ana muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Gabriel to hear. What the hell had prompted him to use that technique? The last time he tried, he passed out and had a nosebleed for almost a week.

What really surprised Gabriel, though, was the sight of Matsu Shimada standing amongst them, wine glass in a delicate, manicured hand. He had only ever seen the matron of the Shimada clan in pictures and tabloids.

Gabriel resisted the massive, childish urge to taunt Hanzo about having to get his mother involved in what was clearly his responsibility. He already looked fairly irritated, though that might have just been because Jesse was currently sending him the biggest, nastiest look Gabriel had ever seen on the guy - and he had been on the receiving end of those kind of expressions many times.

“Greetings,” Matsu said, offering the camera a shark-like smile that made Gabriel uncomfortable. “Strike Commander Reyes, I presume? Forgive me, I have been out of town for quite a while and am still catching up with all the excitement.”

“That’s one way of phrasing it,” Gabriel grunted. “Nice to formally meet one of the heads of the Shimada clan. What happened to Agent McCree?”

She turned to eye the crippled kid, impassive. “He tried to flee and we reacted accordingly.”

Gabriel sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Dammit, Jesse…”

“Well, _you guys_ aren’t doin’ shit to get me outta here!” Jesse snarled so suddenly, so harshly that it left Gabriel standing there stunned amongst his team. “I had to try somethin’! So don’t give me any of that shit, Reyes!”

Gabriel couldn’t form words. “Jesse, I…” he tried, but the kid just huffed and turned away, glowering murderously at the floor.

“That ‘something’ turned out to be a very interesting ability,” Matsu said. “My confusion over your lack of cooperation continues to grow with this new knowledge. Clearly he is a valuable asset to your team, and I thought you cared for him, yet my son has informed me that you’ve done practically nothing so far to get him back. Foolish on multiple levels.”

“We’ve done what we can,” Gabriel snapped, bristling. “We’re _doing_ what we can, okay, but we’re having to sneak around the UN to comply with your demands and that takes time! If we get caught, we’re all shit out of luck. We lose our agent and your trading routes continue to be monitored.”

“You know,” Ana cut in, voice cold and terse, “you could always try to convince the men and women in the UN that you have power over to avert their eyes until this situation gets resolved.”

Matsu narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Captain Ana Amari,” Ana replied, straightening her shoulders.

“Ah, yes, the world-renowned sniper,” Matsu said, lifting her wine glass to her lips. “Perhaps you should stick to sniping and stay out of politics.”

Before Ana could adequately unleash verbal hell on Matsu, she rose to her feet and began pacing around Jesse for a while in slow circles, like a lioness stalking her wounded prey. Gabriel held his breath, unsure of what she had planned for the kid. Hanzo’s methods of torture and interrogation had been brutal, but Gabriel had no doubts who he’d learned them from.

“Betrayal is a callous thing,” Matsu said eventually. “It can break a man, if the pain is great, his will weak. If there’s one thing your agent has proven, Commander Reyes, it’s that he is very stubborn. Your failure to retrieve him will not break him down, nor will it cause him to join with our forces out of spite.”

At that, Jesse smirked in agreement, his still gaze on the floor until Matsu grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, giving him no choice but to look at her.

“But we have friends, Commander. They know a thing or two about stripping someone down to their bare bones and reshaping them to their liking. I’m sure they’d like the challenge of twisting Jesse McCree into something manageable.”

Gabriel’s heart was abruptly in his throat. They had all heard whispers of Talon dabbling in the realm of mind control to the extreme, of working on a way to change a person entirely, mentally and physically. It was of no surprise that the Shimada clan had ties to them, or was at least in the business of communicating with them. If they did that to Jesse - no, no.

Anger seized him in an instant. “If you so much as - ”

Matsu released Jesse, who was now pale and withdrawn again, tamed by the thought of being tortured in a brand-new, terrifying manner. “Your time is up, Commander.,” she said, turning to face him. “You have five days to comply to all of our demands.”

She cut the call.

Gabriel stared at the dark screen for a minute before speaking. “Has Winston finished with those fake schematics yet?”

“Just about,” Jack replied quietly. “Should I tell him to compress them into a file for transport?”

“Yeah.” Gabriel rolled his shoulders back and turned to face his two most trusted comrades in arms. “We’re heading to Hanamura tonight.”

* * *

After the brief conference, Hanzo ordered the guards to dump Jesse back in his cell. His mother made for the hall, and Hanzo hurried to catch up with her, his heart still in his throat after such an intense conversation with the leaders of Overwatch.

“Mother,” Hanzo began, trying to keep his voice firm, “this is not the course of action the elders and I came up with.”

Matsu hummed, distracted by her phone again. “I have spoken with them and they agreed that your plan is not working. Waiting for Overwatch to trickle in responses to our demands is taking too much time.”

“But it was working. They were sending us schematics, they were clearing their troops out of our trading routes - ”

“Not fast enough,” his mother argued, finally glancing at him. “Besides, we would be foolish to let Jesse McCree back to them after seeing what he is capable of. He would do wonders for our business.”

The idea was as shocking as it was appalling. “You mean we’re really going to get in contact with Talon and have them transform him?” he blurted. “Mother, we’ve never worked with them before - surely the elders won’t - ”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The Shimadas are not terrorists. We are businessmen. But Jesse McCree and the rest of Overwatch don’t know that. Sometimes, all it takes is a little of the unknown to keep someone in line.”

“What do you mean?”

She smirked, her red painted lips curling delicately against her pale cheeks, and said no more on the subject.

* * *

Jesse did not sleep that night.

He had trouble sleeping most nights. His thoughts made it a real struggle to fall asleep, and when he finally did manage to get some shuteye, his dreams liked to remind him of all the strife and traumatic experiences he’d been through lately.

Right now, on top of all his other pain, his knee hurt. They’d dragged his bleeding ass to the resident doctor not too soon after his failed escape attempt, but all the guy did was extract the arrow - most of it, anyway - and slap what might as well have been a bandaid over the entry wound. No meds to dull the throbbing agony. Being forced to walk on it didn’t help, either.

He wasn’t sure what time it was when he dragged himself into the shower, seeking what little relief he could find. The blast of hot water didn’t help much with his knee pain, but it did help the rest of his muscles relax. He’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to not be tense all the time.

A knock at the bathroom door made him freeze up all over again. He didn’t want to see Hanzo, didn’t want to see anyone except maybe -

“Jesse?”

Genji’s voice was more than welcomed, even at this shitty hour. Jesse called that he’d be out in a sec. When he surfaced wrapped in that fluffy bathrobe, he found Genji sitting on his bed flipping through one of the magazines he’d left him. The kid cracked a grin at him, but all mirth drained away when he noticed how badly he was limping.

“What happened?” he babbled, leaping to his feet to help him over to the bed. “Did they bust your kneecaps?”

“Might as well have,” Jesse grumbled as he all but collapsed back into bed. “Your brother is a mighty fine shot with that stupid bow of his.”

At that, Genji sat back, large brows high on his head. “Hanzo shot you? Why?”

“I made a run for it.” Genji wrinkled his nose, and Jesse quickly put up a hand. “I don’t wanna talk about it, okay? I took a fuckin’ arrow to the back of my knee and ate shit.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes, it fuckin’ hurts! The fuck do you think?”

Genji frowned at him, and Jesse forced himself to calm down. The last thing he wanted to do was chase off the only friend he had in this hellhole.

“Sorry,” he muttered, hating the way his voice cracked, the way his eyes started to burn with unshed tears. “My knee hurts real bad and I said mean shit to Gabe and everythin’ sucks.”

The trauma of the day caught up to him then; not having the time to break down in the shower, he curled up as best as he could with his busted knee and sniffled softly. “I’m tryin’ so hard to have faith,” he blubbered, “but I’m gonna die here, Genji, I can feel it. Gabe’s efforts won’t be enough to get me outta here.”

Genji tsked and scooted over so he was lying next to him. “But Overwatch is the best.”

“There’s so much against them, though. I wouldn’t blame them for leavin’ me here,” he muttered, curling deeper into his protective little ball. “I’ve been nothin’ but a burden on all of them. Just some - some wild desert kid from New Mexico who can fire a gun. I wouldn’t care about me, either.”

Genji scoffed, sitting up. “What is with this talk? You don’t look like the kind of person who would give up so easily.”

“It ain’t easy,” Jesse argued, lifting his head to glower wetly at the younger man. “I’ve tried to hold on, but I’m tired and I hurt and in a few days I probably won’t even be myself anymore. I only got so much hope in me.”

Genji said nothing for a while, so Jesse went back to crying and feeling sorry for himself and Overwatch for having to deal with his dumb, reckless ass.

“Would you like to know a secret?” Genji asked, bumping his shoulder with his own. “It will cheer you up, I promise.”

Jesse picked his head up, blinking the tears away. “Um, I guess.”

Genji grinned. “Close your eyes,” he ordered. “No peeking.”

Jesse humored him until Genji gave him the okay to look. When he did, he found a green lizard wiggling around on the blanket next to him. He stared at it, blinked twice, and realized that no, the lithe, glowing creature was not a lizard - it was a dragon, an honest-to-god dragon, with scales and a tail and a forked tongue and everything.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, moving to scoot away from it. “Holy shit, that - it - you - ”

“He won’t hurt you,” Genji promised, holding his arm out so the dragon could coil around it and scramble up to his shoulder. It nuzzled its face along Genji’s cheek, earning a grin from the guy. “He is my guardian. He will only hurt the people who are a threat to me.”

Jesse continued to stare, torn between being astonished and terrified. “Th-there were rumors,” he admitted, babbling now as the dragon made its way over to him, “about y’all havin’ dragons under your skin or whatever. Are - are they real? ‘Cos I know there’s like, hard light tech around, but…”

“He is real,” Genji assured him. “Here, feel.”

Jesse did reluctantly; he cringed as the dragon sank its little claws into the thin material of his shirt, then proceeded to coil around his neck, flicking its tongue and rumbling like a long, dangerous cat. He froze, letting it investigate.

“Why so stiff?” Genji asked, grinning. “I told you he is friendly. Scratch his belly under his arms and you have made yourself a friend for life. Try.”

Jesse did so with a trembling hand, seeking out the armpit in question. To his surprise, the creature flipped onto its back the second he found the magic spot and started wiggling with utter delight, complete with its long tongue loling out of its mouth.

“Aw,” Jesse murmured, finally cracking a small smile of his own. He let the fella up so it could clamber back on his shoulders and flick its tongue in his ear. “Ha! He is kinda cute, ain’t he?”

Before Genji could answer, the door swung open, revealing Hanzo in all his pale, sulking glory. He froze mid-step when he noticed that not only was his brother in bed with Jesse, his little dragon was currently coiled around Jesse’s neck.

“Genji,” Hanzo exclaimed, his jaw dropping. “What are you _doing_?”

In an instant Genji’s dragon was in attack mode; Jesse could only sit there in frozen terror as the creature grew ten times in size and roared at Hanzo from its coiled position on Jesse’s shoulders. It was deafening, chilled Jesse to the core, and brought another round of tears to his eyes.

Genji just rolled his eyes and sat back against the headboard, arms folded behind his head. “You worry too much, brother.”

“And you are too reckless!”

As terrifying as having a massive, enraged dragon perched on his shoulders was, Jesse had to admit that, once the shock wore off, he did feel safe with it around him. He sank into its coils, pleased that Hanzo had yet to move from the threshold because of its presence.

“Your beast is obnoxious on good days,” Hanzo snapped, still shifting where he stood. “Send it away.”

“Bah, he is always like that with you,” Genji said, waving him off with a snap of his hand. He barked at his dragon in Japanese until it stood down, returning to its smaller, derpier form in the blink of an eye. Thankfully, it stayed coiled around Jesse’s neck, rumbling like the engine of an old car.

“Our tattoos are like portals,” Genji explained, earning more outraged sputtering from Hanzo. “They give the dragons a tie to this world so that they may enter it when we summon them.”

That explained Hanzo’s tattoo on his arm. Jesse cocked a brow, looking the smaller man up and down. “Where’s yours, then?”

Genji just grinned and wagged his eyebrows, earning a laugh from Jesse and a scowl from Hanzo.

“His back,” Hanzo spat, frowning deeply at his younger brother. “Must you be so lecherous all the time?”

Genji shrugged. “It is my nature,” he said simply. “I will show you the tattoo later if you like, Jesse - when my brother’s disapproving gaze is not upon us so heavily, eh?”

“ _Genji_ ,” Hanzo spat through gritted teeth.

“Relax, Hanzo! You are always so uptight,” Genji told him, clicking his tongue. “Why don’t you show Jesse your dragons?”

“No! Why would I - ”

“He’s got two of them,” Genji told Jesse. “They’re as prissy and uptight as he is, but no Shimada before him has ever been blessed with two. They say he must be special.” Genji sent his red-faced brother a smirk. “Special indeed.”

Hanzo bared his teeth in a snarl, his stance shifting. “I will show you them,” he spat, and the tattoo on his arm began to ignite a vibrant, threatening shade of blue.

Jesse sucked in a panicked breath through gritted teeth and instinctively backpedaled, but all that did was send an explosion of pain through his battered knee. He screamed, short and shrill, but it was enough to have both brothers falling silent around him. He curled over his knee, gripping it and trying desperately to bite back his sobs, but a few still escaped him.

Genji uttered something then that sounded suspiciously like, “You frighten him so, brother.” Jesse was in too much pain to react to it, too stressed out and anxious to do much more than sit in a trembling, sniveling heap on the bed.

Eventually he was drawn back to himself when something small wiggled past the corner of his eye. He picked his head up to stare at the two lithe dragons slithering around on the bed sheets. They were blue, slightly bigger than Genji’s, and practically scowling at the world around them. Definitely Hanzo’s.

“Two,” he mumbled, feeling lightheaded. “Dragons.”

Genji nodded, letting out a pleased hum as he poked at one. It hissed and flopped onto its back, wiggling its little claws at Genji in tiny outrage. “Mine is cuter,” he said, earning another hiss from Hanzo’s dragons and a pleased purr from his own.

“Debatable,” Hanzo muttered. He was sitting on the very edge of the bed now with his head turned away from Jesse, like he was trying not to frighten him further.

It was appreciated, Jesse found himself thinking. Hanzo was a goddamned mystery half the time - damn near nice one minute and homicidal the next. Jesse didn’t understand him at all, though a very tiny part of him almost wanted to. _Almost_.

Jesse turned back to Hanzo’s dragons and held out his hand to one, expecting the same vicious treatment Genji had gotten from it. Instead of a nip or a swipe of its claws, the dragon sniffed his fingers, then began to coil its way up his arm. Jesse huffed out a laugh as the dragon flicked its tongue against his cheek.

“Well, if y’all ain’t the cutest dang things,” he cooed, reaching out to stroke the scales along the other dragon’s back. It hissed for half a second before deciding that the touch was nice and promptly went flat, its little noodle-tail dangling off the side of the bed.

“They are not cute,” Hanzo argued under his breath. “They are ancient guardian spirits of immeasurable power. They can devour a man if I so wish.”

“Still cute,” Jesse said, sputtering out another laugh as Genji’s dragon wiggled into his shirt. “Aw, hey! Learn that from your master, huh? Git!”

Genji grinned. “They like the warmth,” he said just as Hanzo’s dragons joined his beneath Jesse’s shirt.

The trio ended up coiling up around his shoulders and neck, still half under his shirt. Jesse let out a happy sigh as Genji’s settled halfway in his hair, trilling, while Hanzo’s took up most of the space around his shoulders and neck, like a dangerous blue neck pillow.

“I could die like this,” he said, still grinning sleepily. “Can I request this method of execution when you guys get sick of me?”

“Sick of the infamous Jesse McCree? Never,” Genji told him, sounding honest enough. Jesse didn’t bother opening his eyes or responding, too content, and found himself drifting off to sleep nestled in a warm pile of dragons.

* * *

Hanzo spent the day beating himself up over showing Jesse his dragons. Genji should not have done that, he thought viciously. He damned his brother for being so carefree, damned himself for giving in, and damned Jesse McCree for existing.

His rage did not simmer, prompting him to challenge Genji to another sparring match while he was still hanging around.

“Jealousy is not a good look on you, brother,” Genji told him after they were sweating and panting from how hard they were pushing themselves. “You look constipated enough without that making you frown.”

“And who exactly am I jealous of?” Hanzo spat. “Surely not of our prisoner, who is suffering more and more with each passing day. You? Yes, I suppose I would be jealous of someone who has so much free time that they can come and go as they please.”

Genji merely smirked and blocked another hit. “It is not my freedom you are jealous of,” he pointed out. “Rather, it’s what I’m doing with it that has you irritated. You try to hide it, of course - but I am your brother. I can tell.”

Hanzo huffed. “Get to your point.”

“Jesse enrages you,” Genji said quietly, lowering his weapon. “Yet you want to be near him.”

Hanzo stared at the floor. “Yes,” his mouth said without his permission.

At that, his brother let out an annoying squeal. “Oh, Hanzo, how cute! You have a crush on the cowboy!”

The very suggestion made Hanzo balk. “That is not what this is!” he snapped, feeling a fire burning his cheeks. Rage, he thought adamantly. Nothing less. “Crushes are for children. I don’t have time for such ridiculousness on top of all my other responsibilities.”

“Perhaps that is why you are such a stick in the mud,” Genji offered, ducking under Hanzo’s retaliating swing.

As irritated as Genji’s needling was, Hanzo had to admit that he had a point. Maybe he did find Jesse alluring. But it made no sense, he argued viciously. There were far more things about Jesse that were infuriating than endearing. His accent was grating, his stupid southern pickup lines lame.

And yet, Hanzo still found himself drifting to the man’s room around evening. Granted, he had a job to do while there, but that wasn’t top priority at the moment and Hanzo knew it. He just wanted to see him.

“Foolish,” he grumbled as he entered.

Jesse was propped up on the bed mulling over the magazine in his lap. He glanced up as the door opened, no doubt expecting Genji or a servant with food. When he saw Hanzo, his hopeful expression turned cold.

“Can you even read that?” Hanzo asked, nodding at the magazine.

“Some,” Jesse said defensively. “Genji’s been teachin’ me. What do you want?”

Hanzo sent him a flat look. “This is my home,” he pointed out. “I can come and go as I please.”

“Whatever,” Jesse muttered, tossing the magazine aside. There was a beat of awkward silence, then Jesse asked, “What did your mom mean by what she said? That y’all know people who can change the way someone is?”

“It means exactly what you think it means,” Hanzo answered stiffly. “There are techniques - unorthodox of course - for transforming a person into something obedient.”

Jesse scowled at him. “I’d rather die than become somethin’ I ain’t, so I’m tellin’ you now not to bother.”

Hanzo scoffed. “You’re over exaggerating - ”

“I ain’t!” Jesse snapped. “It’s easy for you to call it that. I’m tellin’ you I will hang myself with my bedsheets before I let you fuckers have me.”

“Bedsheets can be removed - ”

“Then I’ll eat the paint off the wall! Drown myself in the tub, choke myself on my lunch!” He rolled his shoulders back, gaze severe. “You forced my real name outta me once. But that ain’t who I am. I am Jesse McCree. I will die Jesse McCree. I’ll find a way to off myself before I become anythin’ less, I swear to god.”

Hanzo stared at him, watching him seethe, before he turned away, shook by a sudden realization. “I don’t want you to die,” he confessed quietly against his better judgement. “I don’t want you to become someone you’re not.”

Jesse deflated, going from furious to desperate in the blink of an eye. “Then don’t let it happen,” he begged, scooting closer to him until their thighs were touching. The warmth radiating off of him made Hanzo dizzy. “I thought this whole thing was your responsibility anyway. Why’d your mom step in?”

“She is not a patient woman. She was irritated with how long everything was taking.” He knew that his mother thought him and his plan a failure despite the fact he had the elders backing him up. He had done well, but he was sure she didn’t see it that way. She hardly ever did.

“But it was working,” Jesse mumbled.

Hanzo couldn’t help but agree and scowl down at his lap. How was he meant to take over the clan if he wasn’t allowed to execute things of his own making? Twenty-one years old and still being treated like a child. There was probably something mental at work here, he reasoned. His mother hadn’t been around to raise him, so she probably still saw him as a six year old boy incapable of acting without someone holding his hand every step of the way. How irritating.

“L-look,” Jesse cut into his thoughts, “I know I’ve been a pain in the ass, but...please don’t let that happen to me. Please.”

Hanzo bit his lip, gnawing at it. “You’re asking me to go against my mother’s wishes,” he said. “Against the clan’s orders.”

“I’m askin’ you to do the right thing. You don’t gotta help me escape or nothin’ - just please, please don’t let them make me into somethin’ I ain’t.”

“Betraying the clan in any way is treason,” Hanzo said. “I would be killed for my disobedience.”

Jesse’s eyes widened a little as he came to an abrupt, ridiculous conclusion. “Then - then come with me,” he babbled, taking Hanzo’s hand in his. “Come with me back to Overwatch. Genji can come too. I’ll make sure y’all ain’t punished for all this. They can help you - just like they helped me.”

Hanzo stiffened, then rose to his feet, dislodging Jesse’s hand from his. “I am not like you,” he hissed just as the door swung open. “And I do not need help.”

The guards swooped in, pinning a panicking, flailing Jesse to the bed. Hanzo resolutely did not watch the guards slap a rag covered in chloroform over Jesse’s nose and mouth and hold him down until the drug took effect, leaving him unconscious and limp on the bed. There was no escaping the man’s muffled pleas and screams, though - Hanzo knew he’d be hearing them in his dreams for the rest of his life.

Matsu stood leaning against the doorway, swirling her glass of wine. “Wash him and change his clothes,” she told the guards, though her sharp gaze was on her son. “You know what you must tell him when he wakes?”

“Yes,” Hanzo answered.

“Good.” She turned to leave. “Do not let us down, Hanzo.”

Hanzo turned away from her to face the man lying prone on the bed. “I won’t.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some mcgenji smut with trans Genji and also some non-descriptive extreme violence at the end.

When Jesse awoke, he was too disoriented to move. He felt heavy - heavy in mind, heavy in body, and couldn’t even bring himself to open his eyes. When he did chance cracking them open, he let out a raspy little groan as light assaulted his senses. He felt like he’d been underwater for a long time.

Abruptly he remembered everything - the threat of being turned into an unfeeling robot, the conversation with Hanzo, him being held down and drugged. He jolted upright, disorientation be damned, and looked down at himself, growing even more frantic when he noticed he was in different clothes. His hands flew to his head, and sure enough, the back of it felt strange - they’d shaved a small section of his hair away to get at his skull.

Panic brought tears to his eyes and a hiccup to his chest. Had they actually done it? Was he a changed man, or just a ticking timebomb? Horrid situations filled his mind then - would he only be able to answer to the Shimadas now? Would they send him back to Overwatch no worse for the wear, only to force him to attack those he cared about most later on? Any and all of those situations filled him with a burning sense of dread and nausea.

The black haze around his vision cleared long enough for him to notice Hanzo sitting on the edge of the bed, his head low. He didn’t look at all pleased - Jesse’s first indication that maybe, just maybe, there was still some hope for him.

Jesse leaned forward, eyes burning. “What did you do to me?” he rasped.

“You are still your own man,” Hanzo told him flatly, his gaze firmly on the floor. “But only if you cooperate with us fully.”

“What?”

“Inside your brain is a little switch now. We have control over what position it’s in,” Hanzo continued. He sounded like he was reading off a piece of paper. “If you decide to be amicable and work with us, you will continue to be yourself and have control over your own actions. If you decide to be difficult, we will flip that switch and you will never be in control of yourself again.”

Jesse just continued to stare. “Did they tell you to say all that?” he choked out.

Hanzo jerked, guilty, and was still unable to meet Jesse’s gaze, even as the man moved closer and laid a hand on his arm.

“Look me in the eye and tell me all that again,” he said, cupping the side of Hanzo’s face and turning his head. “You look me dead in the face and tell me I’m fucked, Hanzo. Tell me I’m not me anymore, that you cut open my head and - ”

“You are so insufferable!” Hanzo snapped, shoving him away with enough force to send him sprawling. “You are ruining everything! I cannot stand you!”

He grabbed Jesse by his face, kissed him hard enough to bruise, then slapped him before storming out of the room, slamming the door as he went.

Jesse sat there trembling with a combination of relief and confusion, one hand over his mouth and the other over his stinging, red cheek. “Jeez.”

* * *

When Genji strolled into Jesse’s cell a little after lunch only to find the man sitting in front of a tray of untouched food, he immediately knew something was wrong. It took some prodding, but eventually Jesse told him what happened earlier, how the clan had drugged him and tried to make him think that they’d implanted a mind-controlling chip in his brain.

Genji wrinkled his nose. “We don’t have that kind of technology,” he assured the semi-hysterical American. “And we don’t work with terrorists - at least as far as I am aware.”

Jesse nodded, still pale and rubbing at the shaved part of his head. “That’s what I figured when Hanzo freaked out on me,” he said. Despite this and Genji’s reassurance, he still sounded beyond on edge, wary with concern and paranoia.

Genji rose to his feet, determined to change that. “Come with me,” he said, offering him a hand up.

Jesse took it without question, his anxiety giving way to curiosity. “Where’re we goin’?”

“To one of my favorite places to be alone,” Genji said, winking as he turned and knelt down, offering his back for the wounded man to hop onto. “Come, we won’t get caught. I am too quick.”

Jesse eyed him with disbelief, but Genji was true to his word. He was too fast for the guards to detect and was able to haul Jesse to one of the castle’s courtyards in record time. The blast of fresh air was a massive relief for Jesse, who commented that he felt like he’d been breathing recycled air for the past couple days inside that stupid cell.

Though small, the little unguarded courtyard was flourishing with all sorts of life, including a pond filled with multicolored koi fish that quickly gathered near the edge when they saw Jesse peering down at them.

“Cute lil’ fellas,” he commented, offering the fish a tired grin. “First sign of non-human life I’ve seen around this joint, though I guess your brother could fit into that category, too.”

Genji laughed, his eyes scrunching at the corners with the force of it. “I suppose he could,” he agreed, grinning. “We are not allowed to have pets in the castle, so I have to make do with fish. They are so boring, though.”

“At least they’re happy to see you.”

“They are happy to see me because they think they are going to be fed,” Genji said, shaking his head. “They are already fed twice a day - any more and they will be too fat to swim.”

“Aw, but they’re so cute.” Jesse wiggled his finger in the water and was rewarded with a bite for it. “Ow.”

Genji sat back in the grass, eying the cowboy. “Did you have pets growing up?” he asked. There was so much about Jesse he still didn’t know, and he wanted to know everything.

“I mean, the Deadlock Gang had guard dogs that would hang around some of their more important warehouses,” Jesse said, shrugging as he too leaned back to stare up at the sky. “Mean bastards. Always felt kinda bad for ‘em - ‘cos dogs aren’t born bad, y’know? Humans make ‘em that way.” He scrubbed the back of his hand across his mouth, eyes downcast. “Humans screw up a lotta things.”

Genji hummed, feeling his smile wane. He didn’t bring Jesse out here to talk about sad things, so he sat up and reached for his sash, smirking at the other man. “Would you like to see my tattoo now, Jesse?”

The cowboy’s face lit up an interesting shade of red as he mumbled out a confirmation and ducked his head, bashful. His eyes snapped right back to him when he started to shrug out of his sleeves. He turned around so Jesse could get an eyeful of the intricate green and black tattoo of a dragon that took up the majority of his back.

“Amazing, eh?” he asked after giving him some time to observe and touch.

“Puts my shitty stick-and-poke to shame,” Jesse agreed with a low, appreciative whistle. “And you said these tattoos let your dragon friends appear?”

“Something like that.” Genji hummed as Jesse’s fingers continued to trace the intricate patterns adorning his back and shoulders. “That feels good.”

Jesse withdrew his hands almost immediately. “Sorry, I - ”

“Good I said,” Genji told him, turning his head to flash him a grin over his broad shoulder. “As in, do not stop.”

Jesse’s face turned red again, but he obeyed, bringing his warm hands back to Genji’s spine, lightly dragging the tips of his fingers up and down the warm skin there. He was so, so careful - like he was fondling some ancient relic and was afraid he’d break it. But Genji was anything but fragile.

He turned around and straddled the cowboy, wrenching a cute little surprised noise out of him. “Want to touch me in other places now?” Genji asked.

“I - yeah,” Jesse babbled, grinning nervously. “Hell yeah, darlin’, um. How do you wanna…?”

Genji took Jesse by the hand, guiding him down past the band of his pants. Jesse sucked in an excited breath, fingers searching, until they sank into something warm instead of coiling around something long and thick.

Realization hit him. “I - you - oh. _Oh_.”

Genji hummed, arching a little as Jesse’s fingers twitched against him. “Will this be a problem?”

“No! No, not at all, sugar, I just…” He cleared his throat, cheeks darkening. “I dunno how to handle somethin’ like this is all. You gotta tell me what to do.”

Genji cracked a toothy grin. “It’s simple,” he told him, grinding down on his fingers. “You touch me here, I come, and maybe I will reward you for being so good.”

Jesse started sweating, though not from the prospect of pleasure. “You might be overestimatin’ me a bit there, darlin’,” he mumbled, letting his gaze slide to the ground. “I ain’t the best in bed.”

“Who says? Hanzo?” Genji scoffed and leaned forward to suck a series of bruises into the cowboy’s neck, making him squirm. “He is not that experienced either. All talk. No room for sex with that stick up his ass, eh?”

That had Jesse sputtering out a laugh and relaxing again. He started rubbing his fingers against Genji’s cunt in little circles, making him exhale with glee. “This good?”

“Up a little - yes, good, Jesse, _kimochi_ ,” he gasped, jerking against his fingers. “ _Motto, motto_!”

Jesse didn’t know what he was saying, but he responded in kind anyway, focusing solely on pleasuring Genji to the the best of his ability. His fingers were rough, calloused from his time in that gang and shooting his gun, and felt wonderful against Genji’s swollen clit. All too soon, Genji felt his gut burning with that familiar sensation - he wasn’t going to last.

“Close,” he said once in Japanese, then again in English. To his outrage, Jesse pulled his fingers back, making Genji sputter out a noise of dissatisfaction. “Jesse!”

Jesse was distracted by the clear fluid on his fingers for a second; Genji immediately forgave him for his delay when he stuck those fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean. Genji watched, jaw hanging open, until the cowboy leaned forward and kissed the gobsmacked look off his face.

“I don’t want it to end yet,” Jesse explained, moving to rub his thumbs on Genji’s hipbones. “Feels like I’ve barely touched you.”

At that, Genji snickered and leaned forward, kissing him solidly on the mouth before sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “Naughty,” he cooed, grinning. “You think you deserve to be inside me, eh?”

Jesse huffed, red-faced again as his eyes drifted south. “Actually I was wonderin’ if I could, uh, taste you some more,” he mumbled.

That had Genji shuddering all over again. He might have been a little quick to throw his pants off and sit on Jesse’s face, but he couldn’t help himself - he was already so, so close, and if Jesse’s tongue felt remotely as good as his fingers did, he knew he wasn’t going to last.

Sure enough, Jesse’s tongue was just as sharp against his wet folds as it was spitting his silly cowboy sayings. Genji was finding it very hard to believe that this man was as inexperienced as he claimed to be. At this point, he was finding it very hard to think about anything other than Jesse’s mouth on him.

“Jesse,” Genji groaned, clenching his thighs around Jesse’s head. "You are doing so well...!"

Jesse only hissed in reply. It took Genji a moment to realize that this was not a noise of pleasure; when he came back to himself and looked down, he found that Jesse had stopped, his face screwed up with discomfort. His one hand had left Genji's thigh to favor his wounded knee.

"Okay?" Genji murmured, lifting himself a few inches off the cowboy so that he could catch his breath. He immediately felt bad for being so rough, though in his mind this was hardly more than foreplay.

"Yeah," Jesse muttered, fixing his angry, bitter gaze on the pond. "Sorry."

Genji frowned and leaned forward, placing a kiss on the man's damp brow. "Nothing to apologize for," he assured him. "At least, not yet. You still haven't made me come."

That had Jesse barking out a laugh that made Genji's chest swell with warmth. "Guess I should fix that, huh?" he asked, bringing his hand back to Genji's thigh and coaxing him back down to straddle his head. 

" _Kudasai_ \- J-Jesse...!" Genji howled, jerking uncontrollably as Jesse's mouth got back to work lavishing his hole with attention. His thumb started rubbing his clit in earnest, working it the way one might a joystick on an arcade machine, and damned if it wasn't enough to send Genji straight back down the road to an orgasm of cosmic proportions. 

He could only burble out nonsensical Japanese as he came with a full-bodied shudder. Genji was no stranger to excellent orgasms, but this one was definitely in his top ten. It rocketed him into the heavens, burned any and all cognizance out of his brain for at least thirty seconds. He was pretty sure he either died or melted into a puddle of molten-hot nerves - perhaps both.

He eventually came back to himself, still shuddering and clenching around the ghost of Jesse’s tongue. He looked down at the American as he pulled back a little, shifting to straddle his lower abdomen instead of his face. The sight of Jesse dazed and slick with sweat and remnants of Genji’s fluid made him groan with appreciation.

“Oh,” was all Jesse could say, blinking slowly up at Genji. “That was different.”

“Good different?” Genji asked, more out of breath than he should have been after a simple dining session. But Jesse McCree was full of surprises, Genji was learning. Very good, very nice surprises.

“Oh yeah,” Jesse agreed, cracking a lazy grin. “More than good, darlin’.”

Genji noticed the sheen on his lips, the clear liquid clinging to his scruff, and couldn’t help but lean down to help him clean up. Tasting himself on his tongue always made him moan and throb for a second round.

“You want to finish now?” Genji asked innocently, batting his long eyelashes at the squirming man. “How often does one get to dine on a real American cowboy? You will be my first if you wish.”

“Oh, I wish,” Jesse babbled, earning a laugh from the other man. “I mean, if you wanna. That’d be real swell.”

Genji laughed and scooted down Jesse’s body, pausing only to lap up the sheen on his fuzzy chest that he’d left behind while sitting on it. Jesse groaned and fidgeted under his tongue, wrenching another chuckle out of Genji before he finally moved onto the man’s pants.

Genji didn’t bother to hide his awe as he pulled Jesse’s cock out of his underwear. “Big,” he cooed, slowly stroking his hand up and down Jesse’s length. “Perhaps what they say about Americans is true.”

“Naw,” Jesse was quick to say, grinning. “I’m just special. A one of a kind cowboy experience.”

Genji’s smirk widened as he continued to stare at Jesse’s impressive length. His mouth was watering. “I suppose I should be the judge of that,” he mused, giving it another generous stroke. “Will you taste as good as I think you do, I wonder?”

“Well, uh, I hope,” Jesse choked out, arching into his grasp. His voice had taken on that nervous note again - and no, Genji wasn’t about to have that. Sex wasn't supposed to be anxiety-inducing, especially when it's between friends.

Without further ado, he took Jesse into his mouth, tasting the tip of it. He loved the scent that accompanied getting up close and personal with someone; it was euphoric, invigorating. He felt his own loins curl with a new wave of desire, but he clamped down on it, knowing there wasn’t enough time for another round. At least, not the kind he had in mind.

Later, he told himself, smirking around Jesse’s cock as he swallowed more of it. Later, he would have this cowboy in his bed and ride him to...what was that saying? Save a horse? He would have to ask. But right now, he was focussed on giving Jesse the best he could, and from the sound of it, he was doing a great job.

“Oh! Holy,” Jesse groaned, letting his head fall back against the ground. “Jesus Christ, Genji…!”

Genji laughed around his length, wrenching another hissing groan out of him. “Loud,” he said, smirking. “I am not surprised.”

“S-sorry, I’m,” Jesse sucked in a gasp. “You’re really good.”

“Of course I am. I am an artist. You are my canvas, and I am making a masterpiece.”

“Oh my god,” Jesse said, laughing hard enough to make his stomach muscles ripple and tighten. Genji put his hand over them, humming with glee, and got back to work with a gentle bob of his head. A few more bobs and quick lashes from his tongue had Jesse’s giggles turning into heavy sighs and whimpers, at least until Jesse slapped his hand over his mouth to silence them.

That wouldn’t do. “Don’t muffle yourself,” Genji ordered, reaching up to pull his hand away. “I like your voice. I like hearing what I’m doing to you.”

“But - we’re out in the open,” Jesse choked out. “You weren’t all that loud but now - _hnn_ \- anyone could find us half-naked lyin’ in the middle of the damn yard...”

“I know,” Genji said, grinning hard enough to make his nose crinkle. “Isn’t it exciting?”

Jesse sighed, arching a little into Genji’s strokes. “But what if it’s Hanzo.”

“Even better. I’d love to see the look on his face.”

At that, Jesse grunted, either in agreement or just acknowledgement. Genji got back to work with vigor, bringing only half-muted cries and sighs out of the cowboy. Genji wanted to hear those noises coming out of him forever.

He pulled back but kept his head on Jesse’s thigh. “May I touch you here?” he murmured, moving his free hand between Jesse’s legs.

Jesse froze up for a second and picked his head up to look at him. His dark eyes were wide, and Genji very nearly recoiled when Jesse found his voice. “Um,” he took a breath, releasing some tension. “Yes. Please.”

Genji offered him a gentle smile and reached up with his free hand to slide his index and middle fingers between Jesse’s lips, getting them nice and wet. The cowboy’s eyes fluttered as he hummed around the digits, lashing his tongue against them until Genji withdrew them. He damn near whimpered at the loss until Genji carefully parted his legs, mindful of his knee, and brought his finger to his rim, rubbing it until it finally gave and let him in.

Jesse’s chest started heaving with deep grunts as Genji’s combined efforts brought him rapidly to the brink of orgasm. It was easy to find that spot inside him that made him yelp and whine and go nearly mindless with pleasure - enough so that he forgot to muffle his cries.

“Fuck!” Jesse cried, writhing hard enough to almost dislodge Genji from his groin. “Geh - Genji, darlin’, you’re gonna kill me…!”

Genji tried to grin around Jesse’s cock and doubled his efforts, turning Jesse’s deep grunts into high-pitched whimpers and moans. They could be caught any second, Genji knew; the idea made him moan around Jesse’s girth, effectively hurling him over the brink.

“Fuck,” Jesse whimpered, nearly curling in on himself as his orgasm washed through him. Genji kept him flat, kept stroking him through it until he could no longer stand the pressure on his cock and pushed his hand away.

Genji sat back then, allowing the cowboy to catch his breath. “Good?” he asked, batting his eyelashes at him.

Jesse let out a wheezy laugh. “Great,” he said, letting his head fall back again. “Amazin’. Stupendous. The best damn thing I’ve ever felt in my life.”

“You are too kind.” Genji sat up and began to don his clothing again, ignoring his own burning lust. With any luck, Jesse would be raring to go again when they got back to his room. He was already imagining how he'd straddle the man once more and ride him until neither of them could take it anymore. 

“Oh boy,” Jesse mumbled suddenly. He’d dragged himself over to the pond and was now frowning down at his reflection, his hand over his neck where Genji had marked him. “Hanzo’s gonna beat me again.”

Genji snorted. “He does not own you,” he pointed out. “And even if he tries, I will protect you. He won’t touch you again.”

“Well, I appreciate it, but let’s be honest: the only way that’ll happen is if you help me get outta here.”

Genji paused, then continued dressing. He knew Jesse might bring up the idea of an escape eventually, and as much as he'd like to see him home safe, his self-preservation skills refused to even acknowledge such a suggestion. That said, he resolutely did not look at Jesse, even when the cowboy scooted closer, batted his big eyes at him.

“Please,” he begged quietly. “I ain’t stupid. I know ain’t makin’ it outta this alive.” At that, Genji opened his mouth to protest, but Jesse held up a hand. “I ain’t _stupid_. I know y’all are lyin’ ‘bout the mind wipin’, but that just means I’ll either die tryin’ to escape or - or y’all’ll get tired of me and send me back to HQ in pieces. But you - you can help me, Genji, please.”

Genji stared at him, took in the desperation in his tone, the pain and fear in his gaze. Not too long ago, before he had been able to wield a sword, he had seen that very look on himself after he had been kidnapped by a rival gang. Hanzo had come for him within the day, had slaughtered those who had dared lay hands on his little brother, but the damage had been done. Even now, years later with hundreds of hours of training under his belt, Genji still woke sometimes to nightmares of that day.

He could only imagine what kind of troubled thoughts _this_ whole ordeal would give Jesse, age be damned.

He opened his mouth the same instance his phone rang. It startled him, made him leap back from Jesse and fumble for the damn device. “Genji,” he said, hoping his voice wasn’t as shaky as he imagined it to be.

“Where are you?” Hanzo rasped. He sounded awful, like he’d been gargling more glass than usual. “Is the agent with you?”

“He’s here,” Genji confirmed, rolling his eyes. “Bruised and sated.” Jesse hissed and shoved him, but Genji just grinned and batted him away. “Relax, I will bring him back to his room now.”

Hanzo said nothing before cutting the call. Genji was used to his brother’s rudeness, especially when it came to a certain American, so he thought nothing more as he helped a red-faced Jesse to his feet.

“Genji,” he tried again as they started back towards his room.

“I did not say no,” Genji told him quietly, fixing him with a rare serious look. “You ask much from me, Jesse McCree. Just...hang in there for now.”

“Oh, I’ll be hangin’ all right,” Jesse muttered, but didn’t try to fight the rest of the walk back to his room.

Matsu, Hanzo, and a handful of guards were waiting for them when they got there. Jesse froze mid-step, no doubt fearing punishment, but Genji smoothly stepped in front of him and asked his family members why they deserved such a lovely greeting.

Hanzo did not follow up with a clever retort, nor did his mother. Genji took a good look at the two of them and noticed his red-rimmed eyes, the paleness of his mother’s cheeks, and felt his mirth deflate in an instant.

“Father is dead,” Hanzo told him, and the world around Genji turned gray.

* * *

“What?” Gabriel spat, wide eyed.

“Sojiro Shimada is dead,” Ana repeated. “As of four sixteen this evening, Japan standard time.”

More curses were uttered from those crammed into the tiny room in the undercover house. Everyone was on the same wavelength at that very moment: this was bad news - not just for them, but for a certain cowboy still being held hostage by the Shimada clan.

“How did it happen?” Reinhardt asked, leaning forward.

“Personal plane went down. Official report says that it was overloaded - probably with smuggled weaponry - and improperly secured upon takeoff.” Ana tossed the datapad down. “Of course everything burnt up in the crash, so there’s no proving there were illegal goods on board.”

Gabriel hissed quietly. “They’ll claim sabotage,” he said. “They’ll use it as an excuse to kill McCree - assuming they haven’t already fucked with his brain. He could be a goddamned Shimada now too for all we know.”

“But we _don’t_ know that,” Ana said firmly. “They’re businessmen first and foremost. They’ll look at the facts before making any rash conclusions if they know what’s good for them.”

“People don’t always think rationally when they’ve lost someone,” Gabriel pointed out. Hell, look at him - putting his entire career and possibly his freedom on the line to rescue one of his own men. If Jack and Ana hadn’t been here to keep him sane and in line, who knows what kind of bullshit he would’ve tried to pull by now?

“Want me to send some scouts out?” Jack asked. “They can’t infiltrate the castle, but they can at least listen on the streets, maybe attend a funeral if they’re planning on having one.”

Gabriel nodded. “Just Paez and Fisher,” he said. “The last thing we want right now is to irritate the clan when they’re already on edge.”

As Jack saluted and went to rally both scouts to give them a new set of orders, Ana turned to Gabriel, arching a graceful brow. “And what should we do in the meantime?” she asked.

Gabriel sat back in his chair, his cold gaze locked onto the dark monitor on the far wall. “Wait.”

* * *

Jesse woke sometime in the middle of the night to the sound of his door opening. By the time he sat up and flicked on the light by the bedside table, Hanzo was already standing on the other side of the door, his head low.

“Hanzo?” Jesse asked quietly. He couldn’t see the young man’s face behind his messy veil of hair. For all he knew, Hanzo was there to kill him for fraternizing with his little brother.

But he didn’t move. He just stood there, back to the door, head held low. “My father is dead,” he rasped eventually. “My father is dead.”

Jesse swallowed, shifted where he sat. “I’m sorry,” he offered, sincere. He had next to zero memories of his own father, unless Gabriel counted. He imagined losing him, felt a stab of aching pain in his chest, and still knew it probably didn’t amount to the kind of agony Hanzo was going through.

And yet, Hanzo sniffed and admitted, “He was hardly my father.”

“Huh?”

“Beyond the technical sense, I mean. He did not raise me or my brother. I cannot recall one birthday that he attended. And yet I still wished to please him. More than anything, I wanted to make him proud. But now…”

His voice broke. Against his better judgement, Jesse sat up, gestured for Hanzo to come join him on the edge of the bed. He did so silently, leaving about a foot of space between them. His entire posture reeked of defeat, of pain and sorrow.

“Where’s Genji?” Jesse asked after a moment of allowing Hanzo to get a brief hold over himself.

“Out,” Hanzo said flatly, red-rimmed eyes sliding to the bruises on Jesse’s neck. “Why? Do you want another round with him so soon?”

Jesse frowned. “Nobody should suffer alone,” he told him. “He should be here with the rest of y’all durin’ this time.”

Hanzo sneered, attitude taking an abrupt turn south. “You don’t know anything,” he said nastily. “About this family, our culture, our business - nothing! Who are you to tell us how we are to mourn?”

“Ain’t tryin’ to tell you anythin’,” Jesse said, holding up his hands in surrender.

Hanzo ignored him, rising to his feet and starting to pace around the room like an angry bull. “There is much to be done now,” he snapped. “I am to take father’s place as head of the household, as it was instructed in his will. I don’t have time for you anymore. I don’t know why I’m even here, in this stupid room, speaking with you!”

“Because you don’t wanna be alone sufferin’ durin’ this time?” Jesse suggested.

Hanzo abruptly stopped pacing and swiveled around to face Jesse. His eyes were wild, his shoulders tense. The epitome of a cornered, enraged beast. But then his lower lip trembled as a sob escaped him. He bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed, but not enough to stifle the rest of the sobs as they came hiccuping out of him.

Despite his knee begging him not to, Jesse slowly stood up and made his way over to the trembling man. With all the care of someone trying to tame an animal, he gently put his hands on Hanzo’s shoulders. Just enough contact to let Hanzo know that it was okay, that he was here if he wanted him.

Apparently he did want the comfort. Hanzo stepped into his space and let his forehead come to rest on his shoulder. He heaved with quiet sobs, and Jesse brought his arms around him, keeping him framed but not contained.

“You are a fool,” Hanzo commented once his cries had subsided, his voice hoarse and small. “Comforting your enemy like this. Clearly all the time spent in this room has driven you mad.”

“Yeah,” Jesse agreed, snorting, “or maybe I ain’t that much of a shitbird and know when to set aside differences.”

“Foolish,” Hanzo muttered, hugging him tighter.

* * *

He was the fool, Hanzo decided after leaving Jesse’s room. He had thought it before, but now he was certain. There had been no reason to go to Jesse and blubber all over him like that. No reason to move into the hug he offered, no reason to confide in him about how he felt about his father.

And yet now that he had, he felt a little lighter. The crippling angst that had driven him to Jesse in the first place had been sated for now. His mind was clearer, if a little heavy with the desire to sleep. As much as he knew he shouldn’t have gone to Jesse, he didn’t quite regret doing so.

On his way to his room, he ran into his mother lurking in the dark hallway. Hanzo expected her to be intoxicated - she had been drinking non-stop since they’d gotten the news - but she seemed very level-headed as she ushered him into one of the nearby meeting rooms.

“Are we having another conference?” Hanzo asked quietly. Perhaps about what to do with their father’s remains, as little as there was of him left after the crash.

His mother stared at him, her eyes wide and only half-focussed. It was a strange look on her and made Hanzo uneasy. “You are the new clan leader,” she said quietly. “There is a whole new world of responsibilities riding on your shoulders now, my son.”

Hanzo nodded slightly. He had been training his entire life for this moment and was prepared for what was to come. He only wished it could have happened at a later date, under different circumstances.

“But we have our concerns,” Matsu continued.

At that, Hanzo picked his head up and noticed for the first time that a handful of the elders were also in the dimly lit room. It was unusual for so many of them to come together like this, even for a funeral. Usually Hanzo only ever saw them when major decisions for the clan had to be made.

Ice settled in his gut. Had they decided he was unfit to rule the clan? He would not be surprised. But he would not stand down without a fight, he thought, straightening his shoulders. His father was dead, gone forever, but Hanzo could at least fulfill his wishes by leading in his stead.

“Concerns?” he echoed, preparing to put whatever they were to rest.

“We have seen the way you act around the American,” Matsu continued, tone growing colder. “Have heard the conversations you have had with him.”

That made his carefully constructed wall start to crumble. “What? Mother, he - it is nothing to be concerned about,” Hanzo spat, appalled and ashamed at himself, at his mother, the elders. Yes, he had shared some tender moments with the prisoner and yes, he had thought maybe once or twice about letting him go, but he hadn’t. That’s what mattered, right?

“We were expecting you to lie to him about the fake switch we put in his brain,” Matsu reminded him harshly, making him flinch. “You could not even do that for us. How can we expect you to do anything if you cannot even lie?”

“I - he already knew we were lying,” Hanzo tried, but his mother cut him off with a flick of her wrist.

“The clan must always come first, Hanzo,” she snapped. “You must keep this mindset now more than ever since you are in charge. Leading us has and always will be your destiny. There is no running from it.”

“I’m not trying to - ”

Some of the bodyguards seized him and held him down to the floor. Hanzo struggled briefly, but knew he had no hope of overcoming both the combined strength of the men holding him in addition to the elders’ piercing gazes. They were disappointed in him.

“This is unnecessary,” he choked out to deaf ears. “I am loyal to the clan above all else, Mother, please, you know this!”

The hands gripping his ankles got tighter, pulled his legs taught. The clan doctor was among those present; Hanzo only noticed him when the man stepped closer, drawing a bonesaw of all things. Hanzo knew something awful was about to happen to him - worse than he’d ever thought the clan would be willing to do to one of their own.

“Mother,” Hanzo whimpered, struggling anew. Someone grabbed him by the hair, forcing him flat, but he barely felt the pull on his scalp as panic started to consume every inch of him. “Please don’t let them do this, Mother, _please_ …!”

She turned away. “You will not run from this,” she murmured before Hanzo’s screams drowned her out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another warning for some more pretty graphic violence in this chapter.

When Jesse hobbled his way out of the bathroom early the next morning, he found Genji sprawled across his bed, face-down in the blankets with a bottle of sake in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other. He hadn’t seen the guy since he learned about his father’s death the night before. Jesse certainly didn’t blame him for taking off and getting shitfaced.  
  
“Do you want the rest of my drink?” Genji asked him, wagging the bottle. “I fear I will vomit if I so much as look at it.”  
  
“Sorry, friend, can’t risk bein’ caught unawares,” Jesse told him, but took the bottle nonetheless and rolled it under the bed. “There, it’s gone. Pass me a cigarette.”  
  
Genji slowly sat up and fumbled around with the box until Jesse had mercy on him and did it for him. The burst of nicotine to his system was better than ever; he slouched against the headboard, sighing with delight, and lifted his arm so Genji could join him. If he shut his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was back in his bunk at Zurich. Angela would kick his ass if she knew he was smoking in his room, but it was worth the risk. Genji being there in that little fantasy was a major plus. Jesse wished with all his heart it could become a reality someday, that Genji could come with him back to HQ, but that was damn near a pipe dream at this point.  
  
“Sorry for your loss,” he offered after a while.  
  
“My father is dead,” Genji muttered into his shoulder. “And soon I will be, too.”  
  
“Ain’t that a little morbid?” Jesse asked, frowning. “Like I get that he’s your dad and all, but - ”  
  
“You misunderstand,” Genji said, sitting up and rubbing his bloodshot eyes. “I am no fool. I know my father was the only thing standing between me and the rest of the clan’s wrath. With him gone, they have no reason not to strike me down for my years of disobedience.”  
  
Okay, _that_ sounded a little concerning. “Your mom won’t step in? Hanzo?”  
  
Genji let out a low, dark chuckle. “You have met my brother,” he said. “The elders have him wrapped around their finger, and my mother doesn't care for me.”  
  
Jesse bit his lip before taking another deep drag. “Well,” he said, exhaling, “my offer still stands about comin’ with me if I can get outta here.”  
  
Genji hummed, plucking his cigarette out of his hand so that he could take a hit of it. “It does seem nice,” he agreed as smoke curled around their heads. “Having people care about you the way a family should.”  
  
Jesse wilted a little as Genji passed the cigarette back to him. “I said some mean shit to Gabe at the last meeting,” he muttered. “Wouldn’t blame him for not wantin’ to come get me.”  
  
“Nonsense. They have done much for you already. More than my family ever would have done for me, and we are bound by blood, not duty.”  
  
Jesse pursed his lips around the butt of the cigarette. “Well, it’s my last day,” he muttered. “So they’re either gonna storm in here guns blazin’ or somehow convince your mother not to gut me live on camera.”  
  
“One of those will be much harder to accomplish than the other,” Genji pointed out. He sat up and plopped himself down in Jesse’s lap, mindful of his knee. “I’m tired of all this sad talk. It is your last day on earth - you know what we should do.”  
  
Jesse smirked up at him, already grabbing him by the hips. “Won’t this just aggravate your hangover?”  
  
“Silly American - sex is the best cure for hangovers.” He leaned down and kissed him. “Help me forget everything just for a little while.”  
  
“Can do, sugar,” Jesse murmured back, chasing his lips with his own.  
  
Of course the door would open at that moment, revealing Hanzo in all his stiff, angry glory. Jesse scowled at him from over Genji’s shoulder but didn’t try to hide what he’d been doing with his little brother. It was none of his business.  
  
“Perfect timing as always, brother,” Genji groused as he slid off of Jesse. “You should really learn to knock. If you had been a minute later, who knows what you would have gotten an eyeful of.”  
  
Hanzo’s brow furrowed with a frown, but he strangely said nothing in reply. Jesse took in the rest of him and noticed the new shiny boots strapped to his feet.  
  
“Nice shoes,” he remarked mildly.  
  
It wasn’t meant as an insult or to spurn any sort of backlash, but Hanzo was on him in an instant anyway, landing three quick punches to his face before Genji stepped in, throwing himself at his brother. Jesse watched, stunned into silence, as they rolled around on the floor exchanging blows until Genji finally had enough and grabbed Hanzo by the neck.  
  
“Enough!” he roared. Jesse could see his tattoo glowing green behind his shirt. “If you ever touch him again, I’ll…!”  
  
Hanzo just stared at him, expression blank despite his bloodied nose. “You’ll what.”  
  
Genji gradually deflated. He let his brother go with an angry huff, and slowly Hanzo climbed to his feet, strangely awkward and shaky as he did so. He straightened up and fixed the two with an equally strange, hollow look that made Jesse uncomfortable.  
  
“Mother has summoned all of us,” he said. His voice was low, almost robotic.  
  
“Why?” Genji ground out, still tense. “It is early. Surely she does not expect - ”  
  
Hanzo blinked as several guards came into the room behind him. “Now.”

* * *

“We’ve got a problem,” Liao reported, thin-lipped.  
  
“What else is new?” Gabriel muttered through a sigh. He picked his head up to stare at the monitor on the wall. “What’s up, Liao?”  
  
The young man cleared his throat, then moved the webcam slightly to the left, revealing an enraged Director Petras in all his stuffy, gray-suited glory.  
  
“We did not expect members of the UN to actually show up on base,” Liao mumbled awkwardly, averting his gaze from the camera.  
  
Gabriel sighed. “No, we didn’t.” It was his fault for not taking that into account, though to be fair he couldn’t even remember the last time someone from the UN had visited any of their major bases. Even Petras limited his visits to once or twice a year. “Sir,” he greeted mildly with a bob of his head. “Nice to see you again.”  
  
“Commander Reyes,” Petras began, voice trembling with rage. “I don’t think I need to tell you just how disappointed I am in you and your slew of bad decisions. And not just you attempting to trick us into thinking you were still in Zurich - we know all about the schematics you shipped off to the Shimada clan as well as the trade routes that are now going unmonitored.”  
  
“We know you know,” Gabriel said. “Athena told us the second you demanded access to her files.”  
  
“And yet you still chose to go down this path.” Petras shook his head, tsking. “And now I can’t help but wonder if you had a hand in Sojiro Shimada’s demise. Interesting that his plane would go down while Overwatch was stationed in Hanamura against orders.”  
  
Gabriel rolled his eyes, unimpressed and not afraid to show it anymore. “Really? You’re _really_ gonna try to blame us for that when our agent is currently being held hostage by the clan? We’re trying to get him back alive, for fuck’s sake.”  
  
“Regardless,” Petras went on as if Gabriel hadn’t spoken, “I’ve already informed the United Nations of your disregard for orders, and we have all reached a unanimous agreement.”  
  
“Do tell.”  
  
“Gabriel Reyes,” Petras began gravely, straightening his shoulders, “you are hereby stripped of your title of Strike Commander of Overwatch and expelled from the organization. All of your duties and titles will now fall to your second in command, Jack Morrison.”  
  
Jack hummed, tapping his finger against his pursed lips. “Well, I wish I could say I’m honored,” he said, “but I’m not. In fact, I’m declining the promotion.”  
  
“ _Declining_? You can’t - ”  
  
“Oh? Then I guess I’ll just have to quit.” Jack folded his arms across his chest. “Because there’s no way I’m following anyone's orders but Reyes'.”  
  
“Same here,” Ana agreed along with the rest of the room’s occupants. Gabriel turned to face them all as they vocalized their varying degrees of disagreement with Petras' decision. He felt his chest burn with a mixture of astonishment and pride for his squad. His family.  
  
Petras, on the other hand, was gaping at all of them like they’d lost their damned minds. “You are all being foolish,” he babbled, trying to sound angry. Instead, he just sounded scared. “Foolish and selfish. You are going to put the entire world at risk by not being there when they need you the most.”  
  
“If we can’t save one of our own, how can we be expected to save the rest of the world?” Gabriel pointed out. “You stuffy fucks at the UN seem to have forgotten that we’re not a mindless crime-stopping unit that you’ve got on a leash. We’re Overwatch, and our job is to help people in need - including our own. Tell that to the rest of your colleagues in the UN.”  
  
Petras was silent for a moment before he spat out a spiteful little, “You can explain it to them when you are all court-martialed and put on trial for treason.”  
  
He stormed off-screen. Liao watched him go for a moment, then turned to the rest of his squad and grinned before cutting the call.  
  
At once Gabriel deflated, trembling a little from nerves. That had gone as well as he expected. It was just a shame the rest of his crew was going to get dragged through the dirt because of his decisions. Maybe if he plead guilty for all of this, the United Nations would let them off easy.  
  
Jack read his mind and clapped his hand on his shoulder. “We’re all in this together,” he reminded him, cracking a small grin. “Maybe they’ll let us be roommates in jail.”  
  
Gabriel rolled his eyes and shoved him a little, but appreciated their willingness to suffer alongside him.  
  
“Well,” Ana said through a sigh, “we’re probably all being put on the FBI’s most wanted list as we speak, so I suppose there’s no real harm in making a move on the castle now, is there?”  
  
Gabriel hummed, thoughtful. If they could get in there and out with Jesse without starting a major ruckus, it could be worth the risk. With any luck, the Shimadas would be took distracted with their own troubles to notice that Overwatch was officially unleashed.  
  
Before he could make a decision, the small monitor lit up with the incoming call sign - from the Shimada Castle. They had been waiting for a call from them ever since Sojiro died.  
  
The screen flickered to live with a live video feed. Gabriel opened his mouth to greet the lot and offer his condolences, but his words died in his mouth when he noticed Jesse, freshly beaten from the looks of things, sitting in front of the table. The kid looked confused and even a little afraid, which certainly didn’t put Gabriel at ease any.  
  
Behind him was a green-haired boy - Genji Shimada, Gabriel realized suddenly. It was the first he’d seen of the kid since this whole goddamned thing started, and he was surprised to find him looking just as anxious as Jesse did.  
  
A cold tendril of worry coiled in Gabriel’s gut. Something was not right.  
  
“Commander,” Matsu said. She looked pale and her mascara was a little smudged on her left eye, but she seemed no worse for the wear since her husband’s demise. “I trust you know what day it is.”  
  
“Yes. But first, my condolences for your loss.”  
  
Matsu didn’t even blink. “Do you or do you not have good news for us?”  
  
Gabriel arched a confused brow. “Did you not get the encrypted email we sent you? There were a handful of schematics attached, including the one for the latest version of the pulse rifle.” He glanced at his watch. “And word should have gotten to all of the squadrons monitoring your routes to stand down immediately. The east coast is yours.”  
  
“And the west?”  
  
“Working on it.”  
  
Matsu said nothing. Hanzo was deathly pale and stiff beside her, his gaze vacant. The only people showing one iota of emotion were Genji and Jesse, though neither of them were looking too happy at the moment.  
  
Jesse picked his head up, meeting Gabriel’s gaze. “Gabe,” he started, “about before, when I said you - ”  
  
Two of the guards moved then, grabbing Jesse by his arms and slamming him face-down onto the table in front of him. Jesse grunted on impact and let out angry curses and insults, but the guards paid him no heed as the pulled his arms away from his body, keeping them pinned to the table. One guard kept his hand on Jesse’s back, the other on his head, forcing him to face to the right.  
  
“What are you doing?” Gabriel demanded. “The hell’re you _doing_? We’re giving you what you want!”  
  
He watched, outraged, as Hanzo pressed a button on the console, making the little microphone icon on their screen light up with a slash through it. The bastard had muted them on their end.  
  
They started conversing in Japanese then; Gabriel was quick to hit the translate button, allowing Athena’s systems to spit out what was being said amongst the clan, albeit with a slight delay.  
  
Matsu was speaking to Genji now. In her hands she held a blade - sharp, dangerous, and authentic. “But you can redeem yourself,” she was in the middle of saying. She held out the sword, and Genji took it, confused until he laid eyes on Jesse and realized what his mother wanted from him.  
  
“No,” he blurted, dropping the sword. It clattered loudly as it hit the ground, making Jesse flinch and call out his friend's name in alarm. “I want nothing to do with this. Any of of this! I never have! Father’s passing has not changed that!”  
  
“A pity,” Matsu said, pursing her lips. She didn’t seem surprised. “You shall be dealt with in kind. Right now, however…” She picked the sword up and handed it to Hanzo, who took it without pause. “Take care of this.”  
  
Hanzo wordlessly gripped the sword in his hands and moved towards Jesse’s prone body. Gabriel’s heart was immediately in his throat as he lunged at the screen, slamming his fists on the wall on either side of the monitor.  
  
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare!” he yelled. “Don’t you fuckin’ touch him, Shimada, or I swear…!”  
  
No one noticed his muted words, least of all Jesse, who was now struggling to see just what the hell was happening around him with his head pinned in place. All he knew was Genji’s sudden violent reaction as the kid realized just what the hell was about to happen.  
  
“No!” he screamed, but the guards were on him, grabbing him around his arms and waist to keep him from lunging at his brother, at Jesse. “Hanzo, don’t! Don’t do this!”  
  
“Genji?” Jesse choked out, wide eyes darting around as the guards pulled his left arm taught away from his body. He didn’t seem to notice this, too preoccupied with the well-being of his shrieking friend. “H-hey, don’t hurt him! He didn’t do nothin’ to - ”  
  
Hanzo brought the sword down with all his strength, severing Jesse’s left arm a few inches below the elbow.  
  
The shit hit the fan all at once. Gabriel knew he was screaming, could hear his squad yelling and cursing behind him, but all he could focus on was Jesse as the guards released him. The kid slumped back onto his haunches, his wild, wet eyes focussing on the bleeding stump where his hand and part of his arm used to be. He looked back at the table where his limb now sat in a puddle of blood, his fingers still clenched into a fist.  
  
He opened his mouth, but his pitiful cry was drowned out by the sudden roar Genji released as his rage consumed him. His shirt ignited a vibrant green as his dragon emerged, and in the blink of an eye he had slaughtered the guards holding him, drawing his own blade before they could even think about countering him.  
  
The bodies of the guards had barely hit the floor when Genji moved onto his next target: Hanzo. His brother did not fight him as he was shoved down onto the table, one hand to his throat and the other gripping his blade above his head. Genji’s eyes were spewing fire, his lips twisted back into a toothy snarl, and for a moment Gabriel truly thought Genji was about to kill his brother.  
  
But Hanzo wasn’t putting up a fight. In fact, unless Gabriel’s eyes were deceiving him, the older Shimada was trembling with the telltale signs of shock, same as Jesse currently was from his curled up position on the floor.  
  
Through his rage, Genji noticed too. He lowered his blade, sneered at his brother, then turned his attention to Jesse.  
  
“My arm,” he was murmuring over and over again as he stared down at the bleeding stump. “My arm, my arm.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Jesse,” Genji choked out, quickly dissolving into sobs as he ripped off his belt and began wrapping it around Jesse’s elbow as a makeshift tourniquet. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know this would happen.”  
  
Gabriel managed to tear his gaze away from the kids and lock eyes with Matsu from where she stood by the door, idly sipping on some wine. She returned his gaze with a smirk, and suddenly the call was cut, leaving Gabriel staring at a black screen.  
  
“Boss,” someone said, but they sounded far away, almost underwater. Someone else grabbed him by the shoulders and sat him down in a chair, but he barely noticed. Dimly he realized that he was in a bit of shock himself.  
  
He blinked and came back to himself who knows how long later. His squad had given him some much-desired privacy during his moment of weakness, save for Jack, who was sitting next to him murmuring words of encouragement to him. His one hand held Gabriel’s, the other was coiled up and around his shoulders so he could card his fingers through his curls.  
  
“I’m gonna kill them,” Gabriel said eventually.  
  
“I know,” Jack told him softly. “But we need to get Jesse back before then, okay?”  
  
Gabriel nodded and attempted to get up, but the world shifted around him, making him wobble on his own two feet.  
  
“Easy,” Jack cooed, gently pulling him back into his seat. “You’re still in shock. One step at a time.”  
  
Gabriel grumbled, irritated that he was being so goddamned pathetic. He had seen far worse on the battlefield, for fuck’s sake. “How long have I been like this?”  
  
“Half an hour or so.”  
  
“Half an hour?” Gabriel echoed, jaw dropping. Jesse could have bled out by now for all they knew, if not missing a few more limbs!  
  
Before he could adequately freak out again, the monitor lit up with another incoming call. It was from Hanamura, but it was not coming from inside the Shimada castle.  
  
Jack squinted at the address. “An arcade?”  
  
Gabriel slammed his fist on the answer call button.

* * *

Genji was panicking.  
  
That was putting it mildly, if he was being honest. His belly was full of butterflies, his neck and temples damp with sweat. Still, he prided himself on being able to hide his anxiety from the guards as he strode past them, leaving the castle grounds and heading into the town. Nobody questioned his motives or assumed that he was on his way to make the call that would seal his clan’s fate.  
  
Despite his initial hesitance, he had already made his decision. He had made it the second his mother shoved that blade into Hanzo’s hands and made him do what Genji refused to. A part of him was angry with his brother, but the other half knew it was not completely his fault. Something had happened to him, something awful. Genji didn’t know what, but he could see that his brother was no longer the man he knew, and it was the clan’s fault.  
  
But he couldn’t focus on that right now. Not when Jesse was suffering, possibly bleeding to death because they had denied him any decent treatment for his amputation. Enough was enough.  
  
Knowing that the castle wasn’t safe to make the call, Genji headed to the local arcade to use their internet and pay-to-use computers. The place was deserted, as most folks had headed into the city to celebrate Children’s Day, but Genji was still on edge as he sat himself down and typed in the number for Overwatch.  
  
It didn’t take long for someone to pick up. The sight of Gabriel Reyes and his second in command suddenly staring at him made him hesitate for half a second before the reality of the situation slapped some sense back into him.  
  
“My name is Genji Shimada,” he began. He prided himself on sounding only slightly terrified. “Please - please don’t hang up.”  
  
“Relax, kid,” Reyes told him, sounding calm enough. The man looked the way Genji felt at the moment - exhausted and jittery. “You got something to say?”  
  
Genji nodded, fidgeting as he chanced a glance around the deserted arcade. “I want to get Jesse out of here,” he said quietly, looking back at the screen. “I should have done this sooner, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry - ”  
  
“It’s okay,” Reyes told him. “Better late than never.”  
  
Genji nodded again, then cast another quick look around the room. It was deserted, but he knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long.  
  
“You being watched?” Reyes asked quietly, gaze narrowing.  
  
“Probably,” Genji replied, shrugging. “There are eyes and ears all over this city, which is why I need to keep this talk short. There is a helipad on top of the tallest building in the city - a bank. I will bring Jesse there, and you will take him home.”  
  
Reyes exchanged a look with his second in command before turning back to the camera. “Why are you willing helping him?” he asked. “It would be one thing if you were a nobody. But you’re a Shimada.”  
  
Genji bit his lip. He knew he might have trouble convincing them. Still, he had to try. “Jesse is my friend. He is...not well. They gave him no medicine for his arm, and he can hardly walk. I…” He trailed off, shaking his head as his eyes started to burn. “I have done my fair share of bad things for this family. But no more. I am done helping them hurt others. Please, come for Jesse before it is too late. I will do all I can.”  
  
“The tall bank building,” Reyes repeated. “You gonna need help getting him there?”  
  
“No,” Genji said, now acutely aware that he had company standing just off to the left by the door, “but a distraction at the castle would be most welcome.”  
  
Reyes’ second in command was already moving, hand lifted to the comm in his ear. “You got it,” Reyes said.  
  
“Hurry,” he told the Strike Commander in farewell, then cut the call.  
  
He sat there for a moment, mulling over what he’d just done, before he rose to his feet and turned to face the men who were standing between him and the exit. “I have no time for you,” he told them, moving to draw his blade. “Get out of my way or suffer.”  
  
The men were not being paid to be amicable. They lunged in near unison, their own blades raised for a fight, but Genji was quick to cut them down, suffering only a torn sleeve for his troubles.  
  
The trek back to the castle was uneventful thanks to him taking all the backstreets and rooftop paths he used to use as a kid when he snuck out. A loud boom nearly knocked him off one of those roofs halfway home - his distraction, he realized. It had come in the form of an actual attack on the Shimada castle.  
  
Sure enough, by the time he was scrambling up and over the unguarded front gates, dark smoke had started to rise from the east side of the castle. Genji could only hope nobody had gotten caught in the blast. He knew Overwatch was supposed to be careful and put civilian lives over their own, but he wasn’t sure that counted for anyone having ties to the Shimadas.  
  
He shoved those gloomy thoughts out of his mind and hurried into the castle, dodging the half-panicked guards and staff running around inside. Getting downstairs to Jesse’s quarters was easy; getting past the guard stationed at his door might be more of a challenge if he failed to cooperate.  
  
“Well?” he barked, startling the man to attention. “Have you not seen the chaos happening upstairs? Go make sure the fire does not spread!”  
  
The guard fumbled for words. “I have been instructed not to leave this post,” he said weakly. “Lady Shimada’s orders.”  
  
Genji scowled. “You have new orders!”  
  
The guard remained where he was. “She also declared that we are to no longer accept commands from you,” he said, rolling his shoulders back as a new wave of confidence seized him.  
  
Genji stared at him. It didn’t surprise him that his mother had made such an order, but the fact that the guards - people who have been around since he was a boy - were obeying it blew his mind a little. “So be it,” he said, then ran the guard through with his blade.  
  
He slid to the ground in a gurgling heap until Genji ended his suffering with another swift slice of his sword. He paused only for a moment to mull over what he’d just done before moving to swipe his finger across the touchpad lock on the door.  
  
It beeped and flashed red in denial. Genji cursed, losing his cool, and broke the door straight off its hinges to get to the man inside.  
  
Jesse was curled up on the bed in a small, sweating ball, his face contorted in agony. The resident physician had slapped some bandages on the massive wound, but the job was shoddy at best and Jesse had already started bleeding through them. Genji’s sash was still tied tightly around his arm - probably the only reason why he hadn’t bled out yet.  
  
“Jesse?” He shook the man’s shoulder, forced him to turn onto his back. Jesse gazed up at him, pale and sweating. Still in shock, still in unbelievable pain. “Are you awake? Look at me. Help is coming, but we need to leave.”  
  
Jesse let out a small noise and blinked slowly up at him, very clearly not cognizant.  
  
Genji swallowed his irritation and told him, “Gabriel is coming to get you.”  
  
That had the other man slowly blinking in surprise. “Gabe?” he rasped. “Really? He’s…?”  
  
“Yes, but we have to hurry,” Genji said, moving to help him up. Jesse tried to sit up on his own, but he was dehydrated on top of in pain, making it almost impossible for him to move. Genji lifted him into his back, knowing it would be faster if he just carried him to their destination.  
  
They didn’t get far. Genji had managed to tote Jesse upstairs and into the main room of the castle when they ran into Hanzo. His older brother was standing in front of the exit, sword drawn and held stiffly at his side.  
  
Genji stared at him a moment, then rolled his shoulder, trying to lull Jesse back to consciousness. “Jesse,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry, but this is where we must part ways.”  
  
“What?” the young man blurted, growing more cognizant. “N-no, I can’t make it outta here without you.”  
  
“You can,” Genji assured him as he squatted a little, letting Jesse slide off his back and onto his own two unsteady feet. “You must. Your squad is coming for you.”  
  
Jesse gaped at him, wide-eyed like a puppy afraid of its own shadow. He shot a glance at Hanzo, who’d yet to move, then back at Genji. “We’ll come back for you,” he said, voice low and guttural. “We ain’t leavin’ without you, Genji, you hear me?”  
  
Genji offered him a grin, but said nothing of his promise, not wanting to stir up hope in either of them. He jerked his head towards the stairs behind them. “Take the steps up to the balcony and follow the path. It will bring you outside. Just keep moving towards the tallest building in the city - a bank. Your squad will meet you on the roof.”  
  
Jesse nodded, then started off, hobbling like an old man but keeping a decent pace. Genji kept his eyes on his brother as Jesse left the castle, prepared to leap into action if need be. But Hanzo didn’t move. He barely even blinked as he stared Genji down.  
  
“You have betrayed us,” he eventually rasped, so quiet that Genji had to move forward to hear him. “You have betrayed the clan. You let those agents blow a hole in our home, you raised your blade to our guards.”  
  
“I did,” Genji agreed.  
  
“Why?” Hanzo spat, finally showing some emotion as his lips curled. “For one American?”  
  
“For a human being,” Genji countered, “who did not deserve the pain you brought upon him. I know you know this. I know you didn’t want to cut off his arm, brother, I know - ”  
  
“You know nothing,” Hanzo snarled, gripping his blade. His eyes were wild, his tattoo beginning to froth an electric shade of blue. “And you will die knowing nothing.”  
  
Genji exhaled slowly and lifted his blade in defense. “If I die, I will die fighting for what is right,” he said. “You will not take that from me.”  
  
Hanzo charged him, and the vicious sound of metal hitting metal rang throughout the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all thought I was gonna stop at Hanzo's legs, huh?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick thank you to everyone who's left a review!! I appreciate all the support :'>

Jesse heard the first of the brothers’ many sword strikes clash and forced himself to move faster, not knowing how much time Genji was going to be able to give him. His knee was screaming at him, his brain was a goddamned mess of muddy thoughts and feelings, and all he really wanted to do was hurl himself off the side of the castle walls to end the utter agony wrecking him.  
  
_Genji did not risk his life for you just for you to end it_ , snapped an angry voice over all the ruckus in his brain. It sounded like Gabriel. _You keep moving. You keep moving until you reach that building, McCree, that’s an order._  
  
“Yessir,” he mumbled, picking his head up. He squinted into the distance, grateful that the Shimada castle and grounds were so high above the rest of Hanamura. From where he was, he could easily make out the tallest building in the city.  
  
Unfortunately for him and his busted knee, it was definitely a good five or ten miles away, deep within the busy city. He groaned through his teeth and wracked his brain for a solution, and it came in the form of a glint of silver bouncing off the flat railing - a handgun, probably abandoned by a guard in a mad dash to attend to the chaos inside the castle.  
  
He sighed. What was one more crime added to his already lengthy list?  
  
Tucking his butchered arm into his open shirt and the gun into his belt, he started making his way down the street, keeping his eyes peeled for any idling vehicles as well as any suspicious looking guys in suits. He had no doubts the whole underground portion of the city was on red alert and probably looking for him, so he had to be quick yet careful.  
  
The street was void of any cars, parked or moving. Hope wasn’t lost yet, though - a woman was walking down the street, distracted as she texted on her cell phone. Jesse made his way towards her, brandishing his gun only when she finally glanced up at him.  
  
“Phone,” he snapped. “Gimme your phone.”  
  
She hurried to comply, tossing him the small device before bolting down the sidewalk. Jesse did much the same, darting the opposite way as quickly as he could in search of an alley. While on the move, he noticed several barricades down the sloping street and a few police officers directing traffic in the distance. Beyond that, Jesse could just barely make out a large crowd and several stalls set up on the sidewalks. Just his goddamned luck there’d be a holiday or whatever happening today. Looks like he was walking to the pickup.  
  
Once hidden from street view, he looked at the phone. It took him a moment to figure out how to navigate the damn thing and even longer to remember Gabriel’s private cell number. He tapped it in with shaking fingers and brought it to his ear, sucking in frantic, anxious breaths as it rang.  
  
A moment later, Gabriel answered. “Hello? Who is this?” he snapped. Judging by the roaring in the background, they were either airborne or about to be. “Petras, if this is you, you can take your orders and shove them up your - ”  
  
“Boss?” he choked out.  
  
There was a pause, then a quiet, “Jesse? Oh god. Where are you? Are you - never mind, stupid question, of course you’re not okay.”  
  
“Been better,” Jesse agreed, rolling his eyes skyward. “I’m somewhere downtown. Tryin’ to get to that buildin’ with the helipad, but it’s slow goin’ ‘cos of my stupid knee. I thought about stealin’ a car, but there’s some sorta celebration happenin’ and it’s closin’ off all the main roads.”  
  
“Yeah, don’t bother,” Gabriel said through a heavy sigh. “Look, we’ve got a few agents out on the streets already looking for you - I’ll send word out that you’re on the move near the main road. Hopefully they’ll get to you before anyone else does.”  
  
“Much appreciated,” Jesse said. Then, quietly, he added, “Listen, I’m sorry ‘bout what I said to you the other day ‘bout you not tryin’ hard enough to get me out. I didn’t mean it, Gabe, I swear - ”  
  
“Kid, let’s focus on getting you home in one piece,” Gabriel cut him off. “There’ll be time for apologies and all that later.”  
  
He was right, but it still stung a little being told to put his feelings on hold for the time being. “Right,” Jesse muttered just as someone ran past the alley. “Gotta go.”  
  
He hung up before he could hear Gabriel’s response. He probably should have kept the phone just in case, but the last thing he wanted to do was draw even more attention to himself if the damn thing went off.  
  
He ditched it in a trash can and made for the next couple of alleys, keeping his head low and his bloodied arm hidden. He nearly fell several times as his knee violently protested the sudden movement after days of trying to be careful, and all too soon he was overwhelmed with pain.  
  
Reaching another alley, he leaned against a dumpster, gasping and choking on a fresh round of tears. He ached all over, inside and out, and his arm - oh, god, his arm. Dimly he knew now was definitely not the time for a breakdown, but he hadn’t had the chance to adequately react to the loss of his limb yet. He’d been in a state of shock for what felt like months.  
  
Jesse looked down at it and truly saw it for the first time. He’d bled through the bandages earlier, and though most of it had stopped, he was still dribbling tiny splotches of dark red blood all up and down the streets of Hanamura. He thought about clenching his fingers, the way it used to feel, and choked on another sob when nothing happened. He was going to have to get used to that - still feeling something that wasn’t there anymore.  
  
He was also going to have to learn how to shoot with his other hand, he abruptly realized, glancing down at where he was currently gripping his stolen revolver. He was going to have to relearn how to do everything with this hand now.  
  
Well, he thought with a hysterical chuckle, on the bright side, at least he didn’t have to worry about his other hand being broken anymore.  
  
The sound of someone running by the entrance of the alleyway was enough to snap him out of his shock and keep moving. He had no doubts that people were out looking for him. He knew that if he got caught, there would be no escaping from Shimada castle a second time, assuming they didn’t just off him immediately.  
  
The coast was clear when he looked, so he wasted little time in darting to the next set of alleys, each one closer and closer to the bank building. Every time he poked his head out into the street, he could see it looming over all of the other businesses in town.  
  
Unfortunately, because of the holiday, the closer he got to the main part of the city, the more crowded the streets became. He was quick to hide his stump inside his shirt whenever he had to move out of an alley, but he was loathe to tuck away the revolver he had clutched in his hand. Paranoia had him on edge - any one of these people could have ties to the Shimada clan and be on the lookout for a scrawny, battered American kid -  
  
“McCree?”  
  
He jerked and spun around to face the entrance of the alleyway, revolver raised, but Fisher’s grinning mug greeted him instead of an enemy’s. “Frank?” Jesse rasped as the agent swooped in and grabbed him in a hug.  
  
“Jesus, it’s good to see you, kid!” Fisher exclaimed, pulling back. “Guess that bomb I planted was a good enough distraction for you to sneak away, huh? You - oh, jeez,” he muttered, noticing Jesse’s arm. Or lack of. “Shit, okay, sit down a minute and I’ll patch you up a little.”  
  
Jesse shook his head, trembling. “They’re out lookin’ for me,” he rasped. “Shouldn’t stay in one spot.”  
  
“We’ll be okay for a few minutes. You won’t last much longer out here with your arm bleeding like that. But first - here, drink.”  
  
While Jesse chugged the canteen of water Fisher offered him, the older man set his gear down and rummaged around in his satchel until he found what he was looking for: fresh bandages and a legitimate tourniquet. Genji’s sash had loosened during his escape and now sat saturated in blood and useless. Still, when Fisher made to rid him of it, Jesse snatched it up and held it in his hand like a lifeline.  
  
“Is Gabe really comin’?” Jesse asked as Fisher worked.  
  
“He’s in the air as we speak,” Fisher assured him with another wide, toothy grin. “We’ve been here for a while trying to get you out, but all bets are off now that the UN has suspended all of us.”  
  
“What?” Jesse blurted, stunned by the news. “Why? ‘Cos of me?”  
  
“Part of it, yeah. The UN wanted us to let you rot here so we didn’t aggravate things with the Shimada clan, but like hell any of us were gonna stand for that garbage.”  
  
“But...your jobs. You’re all gonna be in a shitload of trouble now, aren’t you?”  
  
Fisher just grinned. “You think they’ll use my ID badge picture for a mugshot when the news stations broadcast this shit? I hope not - I was hungover when they took it.”  
  
“Jesus, man.” Jesse lifted his arm to wipe at his face, only to remember he couldn’t use that hand anymore. “I ain’t worth this.”  
  
“We never leave a man behind,” Fisher reminded him, patting his good leg. “Especially the commander’s son.”  
  
“I ain’t his son, oh my god,” Jesse said wetly, laughing a little. God, it felt good to laugh again, even if it did make his whole body hurt.  
  
Fisher just sent him a wry smirk and finished bandaging his arm. “This’ll have to do for now,” he said. “Sorry I can’t do much. Captain Morrison’ll be able to help you more once we get you onboard the pickup.”  
  
Jesse nodded, half distracted by the sound of yelling coming from the main road. His heart leapt into his throat when he realized that it was likely a mob of Shimada agents on the lookout for his ass - and with him bleeding all over the streets, it was only a matter of time until someone found him.  
  
Fisher noticed, too. “Time’s up,” he said, rising to his feet. “Hopefully that patch job will last you ‘til you get to safety. You got ammo? Here.” he tossed him a small box of revolver rounds. “Ain’t much, but I know you ain’t the type to waste a shot.”  
  
Jesse stared at the box, then at Fisher, who was now drawing his own gun as the agents got closer. “W-what’re you doin’? We gotta move!” he babbled.  
  
“You go on ahead,” Fisher told him. “Oh, and here, take this.” He pulled a syringe out of his satchel and passed it to him. “Adrenaline - for if you really need to book it and your knee says no. Just jab it into your thigh and hold onto your butt.”  
  
Jesse stared at the syringe, then turned his wide eyes on the scout. He wasn’t stupid - Fisher only had a handgun to defend himself with against a horde of Shimada clan agents who were likely armed with all the latest weaponry. “I ain’t leavin’ you here to die,” he spat.  
  
At that, Fisher sent him a fake shocked look complete with one hand over his chest. “Die? Oh ye of little faith! I’m a scout, my friend - I specialize in blending in and running when I can’t,” he pointed out. “I’m just buying you some time to get a head start, that’s all. Meet you at the bank, but don’t wait up, y’hear?”  
  
The answer mollified Jesse, though in the back of his head he still had his doubts. Not wanting to throw a wrench in Fisher’s plan, he made his way out of the alley, hobbling as fast as his stupid knee would allow. In a split-second decision, he jabbed the adrenaline needle into his leg, hissing as it almost immediately took hold over him.  
  
He got maybe two more blocks before he heard the telltale sign of gunfire. He didn’t look back.

* * *

 

“Fisher found him,” Ana blurted as she stormed into the belly of the airship where the rest of her crew was situated. They had all been waiting in pensive silence up until her sudden declaration.  
  
Gabriel was on his feet immediately. “Where? Is he with him now? Get him up on - ”  
  
“They were pressed for time,” Ana explained, holding her hands up in placation. “Shimada agents attacked Fisher while Jesse made a run for it. Fisher’s fine - he reported in that Jesse should still be on route to the pickup location. If everything goes well, he should be joining him there.”  
  
It was good news and bad, as far as Gabriel was concerned. He was relieved that the kid had managed to get out of the castle, but the fact that he was being hunted down by the clan was more than enough to worry him, especially since the kid could hardly walk.  
  
Ana noticed and squeezed his arm. “Fisher said he patched Jesse up as best as he could and sent him off with adrenaline and ammo,” she said quietly. “Let’s have some faith in our two friends, hm?”  
  
“I have faith,” Gabriel grumbled, turning to glare out the window. “Just no patience.”

* * *

Jesse made it another half dozen blocks before his luck finally ran out. Someone in the crowd must have recognized him, because suddenly he was staring down at a handful of armed men at the end of an alley.  
  
His own revolver felt heavy and awkward in his lone hand. Fisher’s words about him not being one to waste a shot were heavy in his head - more like a threat now than words of encouragement. He wasn’t sure how true that was anymore, but he didn’t have much of a choice but to try.  
  
He didn’t bother with pleasantries. He lifted the revolver and fired a shot, aiming for the closest thug’s head.  
  
He missed. The bullet whizzed by the thug, flying across the street and embedding itself in the brick wall of a building.  
  
Jesse McCree fucking _missed_.  
  
“Tits,” he choked out, diving for cover behind a nearby dumpster just as the gang returned fire. His knee screamed in protest at the sudden action, but Jesse barely felt it as the adrenaline surged through him. He trapped the revolver between his knees and shoved a bullet into the empty chamber with a shaking hand. He could only hope that the fucking thing didn’t jam on him.  
  
More gunfire rang out, more bullets came dangerously close to nicking him, but Jesse barely noticed, too distracted by the roaring in his ears. It wasn’t just the adrenaline, though. He felt it - the call, the rippling in his blood, the thirst for justice in the form of his Deadeye. It was nigh insatiable now; he needed to strike and he needed to do it right now.  
  
He rose up from behind the dumpster, unbothered by the guns being fired in his direction. He lifted his revolver and uttered the words that gave him the right mentality to unleash hell on those who deserved it.  
  
His Deadeye aim was still impeccable despite the handicap. Six men fell, startling their remaining friends long enough for Jesse to duck behind the dumpster and fumble to reload.  
  
A fresh round of gunfire from the few remaining agents picked up just as Jesse rolled out from behind cover and fired three more shots, nailing one man in the head and the other two in the chest. They went down, silent save for the one guy who took a shot to the shoulder and now lay in a writhing heap on the dirty ground.  
  
Jesse hobbled over to him and watched as he struggled to dial his phone. “There’s no one left to come for you,” he told him quietly. “You lost.”  
  
He left him there, but not before breaking the phone under the heel of his boot.  
  
Three blocks later he was vomiting into an alley - a result of using Deadeye, he knew, on top of all his other ailments and the adrenaline shot. He blinked blearily down at all the water he’d just consumed, hoping his body had absorbed enough of it to get him to his destination.  
  
Ten awful, pain-wracked minutes later, he made it to the front door of the bank building. It was thankfully unguarded, though when he hobbled through the front door, the secretary stuck behind the counter just off to the right tried to stop him.  
  
Jesse looked her dead in the eye and turned so she could see the blood splattering his front, his missing limb, the gun - all of it. “You really wanna stop me?” he rasped. “Go ahead.”  
  
She gaped at him, then lunged for the phone on her desk, no doubt calling security. Jesse left her to it, finding the elevators and taking them up to the fiftieth floor in record time. As he stood there listening to the maddening music drifting in from the speakers above his head, he couldn’t help but stare at the man looking back at him in the shiny golden surface of the elevator doors.  
  
He was fucked up, to say the least. Never mind the physical issues - he knew he’d be suffering from nightmares and all sorts of trauma from all this shit, probably for a long, long time. He liked to think he was stronger than that, but he was only human.  
  
But he’d done it, he thought, trying to dredge up some positivity. He made it to the pickup location. His friends were coming for him. He had won.  
  
Maybe not, he thought as the elevator suddenly came to a screeching stop a few floors before its final destination. The lights flickered for a moment but thankfully stayed on. Then it started moving slowly back down, away from salvation.  
  
“Fuck!” Jesse yelled, throwing himself at the doors. He had zero hope of prying the damned things open with only one hand, so he turned to the latch he knew was somewhere above him. Even if he could reach the damned thing, what hope did he have of climbing to safety with only one arm?  
  
It wasn’t fair. He’d gotten so close.  
  
“Fuck,” Jesse said again, sniffing hard as he fumbled with his revolver. He wouldn’t go quietly, he vowed. He’d go out guns blazing - the way he always wanted to.  
  
Slowly the elevator stopped. Jesse braced himself as the doors slid open, but instead of an entourage of security guards, he found himself staring at Fisher, who had one hand on an elevator key he’d managed to swipe from somewhere. He was bleeding from a gunshot wound to his other arm but otherwise as bright-eyed as ever.  
  
“Sorry ‘bout the scare,” he said, eyeing the revolver still pointed at his head. He withdrew the key from the panel next to the elevator. “But a handful of security guards are on their way after you and we had to throw ‘em off your trail. C’mon now, you’re okay. Let’s get you home.”  
  
Jesse choked on a fresh wave of tears as Fisher slung his arm over his shoulder, and together they made for the stairs.

* * *

They were just approaching the landing pad on top of the bank building when Gabriel saw the door to the stairs swing open. Jesse, supported by Fisher, stumbled onto the roof, and Gabriel slammed his fist down on the open door hatch button despite the pilot’s cautions not to.  
  
The airship came in for landing. The ramp was hardly extended when Gabriel leapt down onto the roof, sprinting over to Jesse. The kid shrugged Fisher off and met him halfway with a terrible wet, animalistic noise, throwing his arms around Gabriel’s neck and clinging to him like he’d die if he didn’t. It broke Gabriel’s goddamned heart to see him like this, knowing he’d suffered so badly and it was all his fault.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Jesse was crying, “I’m sorry, Gabe, I didn’t mean what I said, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”  
  
When Jesse had apologized over the phone earlier, it had taken Gabriel a moment to figure out what the hell he was sorry for. He’d only snapped once to Gabriel about all their lame attempts to get him back. Leave it to him to stew over such an understandable reaction. Did he honestly think it would keep him from being rescued?  
  
“Jesse,” Gabriel muttered. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re okay now.”  
  
Gabriel held him tightly as he shuddered and wheezed, as he screamed and wept into his tactical vest. Behind them, Ana came down the ramp, glad to see the kid again but not wanting to ruin the peace between him and Gabriel at that moment. She sent Fisher a thankful nod and a smile as she went to set up a perimeter, ever on the lookout for danger. Jack was standing on the airship’s platform, his stance relaxing at the sight of Gabriel with Jesse. He waved Fisher onboard, his field medic instincts kicking in at the sight of his wounded arm.  
  
Gabriel too felt himself begin to relax. His squad was reunited once more, in one piece. More or less.  
  
“Geh.” Jesse abruptly jerked in his arms and pulled back. “Genji,” he spat through chattering teeth. “W-we gotta go back for him, he’s…”  
  
He trailed off as another roaring noise began to rise up from behind them. Gabriel turned towards it, fearing that the Shimadas were coming after them with one of their own airborne vehicles, only to stop and gape at the sight of two massive twin dragons rising up from the castle on the other side of town.  
  
“No,” Jesse whimpered, nearly collapsing as he made his way over to the edge of the roof. “Genji…!”  
  
Gabriel watched the spiraling blue creatures vanish up into the clouds before reality smacked him upside the head. “Jesse, we need to go,” he said, moving towards the young man.  
  
“No! Not without Genji!” Jesse exclaimed, turning around to flash him one of his determined expressions. “He saved my life, Gabe, I ain’t leavin’ here without - ”  
  
“Down!” Ana yelled suddenly, firing her rifle.  
  
Gabriel didn’t hear crack of the enemy shot being fired until a full three seconds after Ana’s rifle went off, after Jesse had crumbled to the floor with an entry and exit wound in his chest. It was astonishing how fast it all happened. Gabriel could do nothing but stare for a good three seconds until time picked up speed again.  
  
“Matsu,” Ana spat, wild-eyed as she stumbled back over to them. “She’s down, but I wasn’t fast enough - ”  
  
Deaf and dumb to everything, Gabriel hauled Jesse’s limp body up, dragged him onboard the ship with Ana’s help and put him on the floor, fumbling for Jesse’s neck to feel for a pulse.  
  
“Fuck,” he spat wetly, pressing harder, searching for something, anything. Jack was on them immediately and dropped his medical pod; he was speaking, but Gabriel couldn’t hear him over the roaring of the bird’s engines - or maybe that was just the sound of his own blood rushing through his ears.  
  
The neat bullet hole in Jesse’s chest started clotting thanks to the med pod’s effects, but the damage had already been done. Gabriel’s hands went from Jesse’s neck to his face, which was now pale, his lips slowly turning blue.  
  
“Jesse,” he gritted out, bringing their foreheads together. “Don’t do this to me, you ingrate, not now, not when we just got you back! _Come on_!”  
  
Jesse coughed. Sucked in a breath, shuddered briefly, then fell still again, nestled in the warm, healing confines of Jack’s medical pod. Gabriel let out a breath he wasn’t even aware he’d been holding. Behind him, Ana mumbled some words of thanks to whatever higher being might have been responsible, and Fisher echoed the notion with a wheezy, “Thank god.”  
  
They moved him deeper into the airship so that Jack could slap an IV onto him and monitor his vitals better. Ana refused to leave his side, no doubt feeling guilty over being less than a millisecond too slow to keep Matsu from firing first. Gabriel made a mental note to sit down with her later on. Right now, he had one last thing he needed to do.  
  
“Where are you going?” Jack asked quietly as he started walking back towards the exit ramp.  
  
“Got some unfinished business,” Gabriel replied. “Stay with him. Keep him safe.”  
  
Jack nodded and watched him leave the bird once more.  
  
He headed back to the castle. By now, most of the folks inside had fled the carnage, and the few that had stuck around were quickly taken care of. It pleased him that the place was in shambles - physically as well as structurally from a business standpoint. There was still a lot to be done in terms of completely dismantling the Shimada hold on the world, but what they’d done was certainly a start.  
  
And they couldn’t have done it without that Genji kid’s help, he mused. He hoped there was something left of the kid to salvage, but the sight of those blue dragons rising up out of the castle gave him his doubts.  
  
He found Matsu and her still-smoldering sniper rifle on one of the balconies facing towards the bank building. Ana had dropped her with a neat hole in her chest. To Gabriel’s surprise, the matron of the Shimada clan was still clinging to life and managed to scowl up at him as he approached.  
  
“I hope you don’t think you’ve won,” she spat, sneering. Blood was dribbling from her mouth as she spoke, turning her perfect teeth red. “You might have destroyed the castle and slaughtered my family, but the great Shimada empire will live on. I promise you this.”  
  
Gabriel stared down at her. It was pathetic that she was still clinging to the idea that the Shimada clan was anything less than stupendous, he mused, but not surprising.  
  
“How is the boy?” she asked. Needling him until the end. “It’s a shame he turned around when he did. I had been aiming for his heart.”  
  
“You should have aimed for his head,” Gabriel told her, subtly relishing the way Matsu’s sneer turned into a snarl. “He’s alive and stable. Maybe you should have stuck to business instead of playing sniper.”  
  
He left her in a growing puddle of her own fluids, content to get the last word in.  
  
Gabriel moved into the main portion of the castle and quickly uncovered remnants of a battle that had not gone in someone’s favor. Blood splattered the dented, torn walls in places, and there were the occasional slash marks and fired arrows dotting the area.  
  
Sure enough, following the carnage trail led him right to the Shimada brothers. Hanzo, in mostly one piece and splattered with blood, sat kneeling in front of what remained of his brother. Genji was in literal pieces on the floor beneath a massive mural of two dragons, both his legs hacked almost beyond recognition. One of his arms was dangling by mere threads, the other suffering the same treatment as his legs. A massive slash from his right shoulder to under his left arm should have been the killing blow, damn near cutting him in two.  
  
Gabriel let out a shaky sigh. He was getting real sick of seeing kids getting fucked up like this.  
  
Hanzo’s head snapped around when Gabriel chanced moving closer. Their eyes met, and for a second Gabriel was thrown back into the past when he was in the middle of busting up a Deadlock sting, only to discover what might as well have been a dirty desert child scrambling around in one of the back rooms for a weapon. Wild-eyed, scared, too young to be wrapped up in something so sinister.  
  
Hanzo’s wet, unseeing eyes drifted down to the two shotguns at Gabriel’s hips. His gaze went from shellshocked to hungry in a blink, but Gabriel wasn’t about to grant him an easy way out. As sad as the entire situation was - and Jesus Christ, was it fuckin’ sad - the kid had fucked up and now he had to live with that.  
  
Gabriel moved past him towards Genji. Something caught his eye - around Genji’s neck was a little green dragon. It was glowing, pulsating a little. Keeping Genji alive, Gabriel realized.  
  
He crouched down next to the kid and watched as the dragon picked its head up to stare at him. “I’m here to help,” Gabriel offered, not knowing if the creature would even understand.  
  
The thing made no move to protest. Gabriel scooped Genji into his arms as best as he could and made his way out of the castle for the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole "Jack being a field medic" thing was inspired by a post on tumblr that I unfortunately wasn't able to find. I really liked the idea, so I implemented it here. ^^


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I was ill yesterday and it slipped my mind again. Enjoy!

“Jesse died when that bullet pierced him,” Angela told Gabriel approximately twelve hours after they’d brought Jesse home to the base in Zurich. “And his heart stopped twice in surgery.”  
  
Gabriel’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he struggled to speak. “But he’s alive.”  
  
Angela nodded, her features relaxing a little. So young and already looking far too much like someone who'd witnessed fifty years of tragedy. “Yes. He’s in stable condition, though in a medically induced coma until we know whether or not his body will accept the new organs.”  
  
“Give me the rundown, Doc. How bad off was he?”  
  
“Well,” Angela said through a sigh, “aside from the broken nose, bruised ribs, and gunshot wound that tore up his lungs, his knee had to be replaced entirely. From the looks of things, he’d been shot and not properly taken care of afterwards. I found fragments of metal in the muscle there.”  
  
Gabriel hummed, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “Running on it through the streets of Hanamura to escape definitely did not help matters, I’m sure,” he muttered.   
  
Angela made a noise of agreement. “I’m not sure he will fully recover from it, even with physical therapy,” she said softly. “But we will try.”  
  
“What about his arm? Or lack of it, I guess.”  
  
“Fisher’s tourniquet saved him from dying of blood loss, but as of right now it’s pretty infected. He might wind up losing more of it if the antibiotics aren’t effective. You said we are working on a prosthetic for him, yes?”  
  
Gabriel swayed a little before coming to rest against the wall. “Yeah, Torbjörn's designing a custom one since we lost funding from the UN,” he muttered. “It’s even got a replica of that dumb skull tattoo on it.”  
  
Angela cracked a small, tired smile. “I’m sure he will appreciate it,” she assured him. “When it’s done, I can help have it installed. But right now we just need to wait and see how he recovers.” She paused. “There is one other concern I have. On the back of his head, some of his hair was shaved to make way for a small incision.”   
  
Gabriel felt ice settle in his gut all over again, heavy and biting. “They said,” he began, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice, “that they knew people who knew how to change someone, to make them obedient. Shit, I didn’t think they were serious when they said they’d - ”   
  
“There’s no evidence that his skull was tampered with,” Angela told him quickly. “When he wakes, I can perform more tests. But until we know for sure, I think it would be wise to keep him under close supervision.”  
  
The kid had been through enough, dammit, but better safe than sorry. He grumbled out an affirmation, gaze narrow and burning holes through the floor at his feet.   
  
Angela touched her small hand to his arm. “Would you like to see him?” she asked quietly, big eyes wide and hopeful.  
  
Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to speak, so he nodded and followed Angela into the medical bay. Most of the machines and supplies were in the process of being packed up as the UN reclaimed all of the items it had once paid for, but there was still enough out to monitor Jesse’s vitals as he slept. There was a endotracheal tube strapped around his mouth and another smaller tube leading into one nostril. The ventilator next to him was softly chugging away, keeping the kid’s new lungs working the best they could.  
  
He looked goddamned awful, Gabriel mused. Dark circles under his eyes, pale and scrawnier than ever - though to be fair, the kid had died three times in a day. He sort of had the right to look like shit.  
  
Gabriel hadn’t realized that Angela had left him until Ana was suddenly appearing at his side. Her expression was tight as she stared down at Jesse. The guilt was still there, even after Gabriel had pulled her aside shortly after they’d brought the kid in and told her she had done the best she could.  
  
“My best wasn’t good enough,” she had said. Gabriel knew there was no arguing with her when she got in that kind of mindset.   
  
Now, she sat down in one of the vacant chairs and took Jesse’s hand in hers. Gabriel took a step back, giving her space.  
  
“I’m taking Fareeha back to Cairo,” she murmured eventually, sitting back. “She’ll hate me for it, but we both need to get away for a while. I need to think.”  
  
Gabriel had seen the decision coming for a while now, but it didn’t keep him from feeling disappointed. “You do what you gotta do,” he said nonetheless, squeezing her shoulder. “Just promise to keep in touch, okay?”  
  
“Of course. Someone has to remind you and Jack to wash your damn dishes and show you how to fold your laundry.”  
  
Gabriel let out a low laugh. “You’d better do that before you leave,” he said. “Our couch is a laundry dump at the moment.”  
  
Ana mumbled something cheeky in Arabic and smacked him with the back of her hand as she stood up. Then she drew him into a crushing hug and told him, “Be there for him when he wakes up. He’s going to need all the support he can get - regardless of whether or not he wants it.”

* * *

About a week later, Angela released Jesse from his coma and took the breathing tube out. His new lungs were working great on their own, and the infection in his arm had been obliterated by the best medicine the world had to offer. All in all, he was doing very well.  
  
“So why’s it taking him so goddamned long to wake up?” Gabriel finally asked about three days later. It wasn’t like they had missions to do - Overwatch had been officially disbanded, an announcement that took the world by storm. Already people were protesting, demanding answers. Gabriel was all too willing to tell them the truth if given the chance, but he was kind of preoccupied at the moment.  
  
Angela shrugged. “Sometimes people just don’t want to,” she said softly. “And unfortunately, all we can do now is wait and hope for the best.”  
  
Gabriel had been doing that for over a week now and he was running out of patience. He was clinging to what little hope he had left, but even that was waning. He was tired.  
  
He dragged himself back to the little two bedroom apartment he had rented with Jack. His partner was in the middle of folding laundry when Gabriel walked through the door. They made eye contact for a moment, and Gabriel couldn’t help but think that domesticity was such an odd look for the two of them after spending years living in and out of bases and airships.  
  
“Hey,” Jack said, brows furrowing as he set down the pair of pants he’d failed to fold correctly. “No change, I gather?”  
  
“No.” Gabriel dropped his keys and wallet on the coffee table and stared down at them. “I’m tired.”  
  
“Wanna take a nap? I, uh, forgot to make the bed after washing the sheets, but you could always take the couch,” Jack said, gesturing to it, only to go limp when he noticed that it was still covered with unfolded and half folded laundry. “Uh. Wow, I’m really bad at this whole domesticity thing, huh?”  
  
“Retirement doesn’t suit super soldiers,” Gabriel agreed through a sigh. “Just - come lie down with me? I don’t care about the sheets.”  
  
Jack nodded and followed him into their tiny bedroom, snagging one of the fleece blankets off the shelf of the hallway closet as they passed. They curled up together underneath the fuzzy fabric, clinging to one another. Gabriel breathed in his partner’s scent and tried to bring himself to relax a little. They were all home and safe. Jobless, but safe.   
  
“Guess we gotta start job hunting,” he mumbled into Jack’s belly. “What the hell do normal people even do these days?”  
  
Jack chuckled. “Can you imagine what our resumes will look like? I guess we can’t list the UN as a reference, can we?”  
  
Gabriel snorted. “I don’t wanna hear what they’ve got to say about us,” he grumbled.   
  
“Me either.” Jack paused, then started running his fingers through Gabriel’s curls. “You handled everything so well, Gabe,” he told him softly. “Being Strike Commander of Overwatch, leading us all - everything. It was an honor serving under your command.”  
  
Gabriel felt his eyes start to burn. “Shush.” 

* * *

When Jesse cracked open his eyes, he thought for sure he’d be seeing hellfire. Instead, all he saw was a blinding white light for a moment. _The pearly gates?_ he wondered. _Naw, there’s no way I’m goin’ there._  
  
The room eventually came into focus. White walls, ugly popcorn ceiling with flickering fluorescent lights - a hospital. He was alive, he realized, sniffling. He had made it out after all.   
  
Too bad it wasn’t quite in one piece, he mused, managing to glance down at himself. His arm was still gone, though by now he’d been cleaned up and operated on, allowing someone to cap off the end of the stub with a metal plate - preparation for a prosthetic, he realized. Well, it was better than nothing, he thought, letting his head fall back onto the pillows.  
  
He drifted in and out of sleep for a while until the sound of someone’s heels clacking on the tiled floor urged him to turn his head towards the door to his room. Angela strode in, her white lab coat flapping behind her. She was staring at a holopad the way one might stare at a particularly irritating child, but the second she noticed Jesse was conscious, a huge smile lit up her pretty face.  
  
“ _God morgon_ , Jesse! I’m so glad to see you awake,” she gushed, moving to immediately check his vitals, tapping rapidly on the console next to the bed to flip through each holographic file. “Oh, you are looking very good. Tell me how you feel. Headache? Nausea?”  
  
Jesse blinked at her, almost not believing what he was seeing. “Angie?”  
  
“ _Ja_.” The doctor stopped fluttering around and sat down on the edge of his bed. When she spoke again, it was slower, more deliberate. “Do you know where you are, Jesse?”  
  
His eyes rolled skyward towards the bleached white ceilings. “Hospital,” he said quietly. “Guess I got outta there in one piece.” He tried to wiggle his missing fingers and failed, frowning. “Sorta.”  
  
“You are mostly intact,” Angela assured him, patting his good knee. “Your body accepted the new organs, and with a little bit of physical therapy, you will be back on your feet in no time.”  
  
“New organs?” Jesse blurted, eyebrows shooting up. Suddenly he was wide awake. “The hell happened? Did they beat me up that bad?”  
  
Angela’s mirth faded. “You don’t remember?” she asked softly. “You were shot shortly after reuniting with the rest of the squad. I had to replace your shredded lung. And your knee, but that shouldn’t come as a surprise to you.”  
  
Twenty years old and already on his first knee replacement. Jesse shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the pillows again. At least he’d gotten a reset on lung cancer.   
  
“Ah, but I suppose you wouldn’t remember,” Angela continued. “The shot killed you almost instantly.”  
  
Jesse’s eyes snapped open. “I died?”  
  
“Three times,” Angela said, sounding entirely too blasé about it. As it was, she was typing something into her phone - probably texting Gabriel. “But I was able to stabilize you and keep you here with us. Don’t think too much on it.”  
  
Yeah, sure, easy for her to say.   
  
A thought suddenly occurred to him, leaving him jolting upright in bed. He opened his mouth, but all that came out of him was a yell as a stabbing pain jabbed at his chest.  
  
“Careful!” Angela scolded, dropping her phone as she reached out to grab his shoulders. “I said your body accepted your lungs, but that doesn’t mean you are one hundred percent healed, even with my tech helping you!”  
  
Jesse coughed and gasped, grabbing at his chest with his hand. “Where’s Genji?” he managed to spit out as the pain subsided a little. “Geh - Genji Shimada. Was he brought in too?”  
  
Angela paled a little and glanced away - a reaction that did not give Jesse any hope whatsoever.  
  
“Angie, please,” he choked out. “If he’s dead, just tell me.”  
  
“He’s not. I’m afraid his current status is...complicated to explain without having a visual.” She unfolded the wheelchair that had been leaning up against the wall. “Let’s go visit him, shall we?”  
  
Jesse almost fell out of bed in his eagerness. Angela scolded him again, stating that he should not be on his feet yet, and helped him into the chair. He was stuck holding onto his IV bag as Angela wheeled him down the hall, but he swallowed his complaints, knowing he had no hopes of going against the young doctor’s wishes.  
  
Genji’s room was dark and a far cry different from Jesse’s own stereotypical bleached hospital room. Angela turned the light on as they entered, revealing a rather large healing tube of sorts stacked against the far wall. Genji was inside, suspended in the clear fluid and unconscious.  
  
Jesse stared at what had become of his friend. The only human part of him left was his head and the left side of his torso - though even those were stuck with multitudes of nodes and tubes leading into the walls of the healing chamber. His lower jaw, front of his throat, and even his ears were now covered - replaced, even - by black metal plating. His limbs were gone, capped off like Jesse’s own arm in preparation for more prosthetics.   
  
“He is alive,” Angela explained quietly from behind him. “When Gabriel brought to me, the only thing keeping him with us  was his dragon. Don’t ask me how. Its presence allowed me to stabilize Genji so that I could get to work on building him a new body since over sixty percent of his organic one was destroyed.”  
  
Jesse barely heard her as he leaned forward and touched his hand to the side of the healing chamber. He couldn’t believe Hanzo had done this to his own brother. His own _brother_! If he ever saw that piece of shit again, Jesse swore he’d plant a bullet between his eyes.   
  
“He saved my life. He was the only friend I had in that hellhole.” He turned his watery gaze on the doctor. “Please do whatever it takes to save him, Angie.”  
  
She offered him a tired smile. “That’s the plan. Now, let’s get you back to your room, shall we? I’m sure Gabriel is very nearly here if he isn’t already.”  
  
The prospect of seeing Gabriel made Jesse’s stomach knot up, but he had little say in the matter as Angela began to wheel him back. They were just a few doors down when Gabriel came storming out of Jesse’s room, yelling about how Jesse was gone and he was going to unleash hell on the inattentive hospital staff for letting it happen. He froze when he caught sight of the two of them and almost fell over his own two feet.  
  
“Hey, jefe,” Jesse offered through a tired sigh, happy to see the man even if he was anxious.   
  
Gabriel’s mouth moved for a second before he made his way over, suddenly bashful. “Hey, kid,” he muttered, ducking his head. “Good to see you up and about. Sorta.”  
  
Jesse looked down at his legs, at the angry red line running up the length of his one knee. “Yeah.”  
  
Angela’s phone went off, slicing through the budding awkward silence. “Take him back to his room for me, please?” she asked Gabriel, already moving down the hall. “I’ll be in to check on you later, so don’t even think about sneaking out.”  
  
Jesse frowned but didn’t protest as Gabriel began to wheel him the short distance back to his temporary prison cell.   
  
“Nice place,” Gabriel commented dryly. “I see plain white walls and ceilings are still in fashion when it comes to hospitals.”  
  
“Who’s payin’ for all this?” Jesse asked. He’d feel like utter shit if Gabriel had to reach into his own savings to pay for his crippled ass.  
  
“We managed to convince the UN to keep your healthcare going until you’re in better shape,” Gabriel told him, winking. “Threatening to reveal the names of those involved with the Shimada clan helped with that.”  
  
Well that was one thing off his list of shit to worry about. Jesse internally grumbled as Gabriel scooped him out of the chair and set him back down in bed, but didn’t bother snapping at him. His knee thanked him, even if his pride was blistering with embarrassment at having to be babied.   
  
“Am I goin’ to jail?” he asked.  
  
Gabriel froze for half a second. “Why the hell would you go to jail? If you’re worried about getting in trouble over those pricks you killed trying to get out of Hanamura, don’t even. They were all done in self-defense and I’ll gut whoever says otherwise.”  
  
“No, I mean...” Jesse’s gaze drifted down to his lap where his arms lay. Arm. “I’m useless now.”  
  
Gabriel continued to stare at him, his expression borderline crestfallen. “Jesus, Jess, we’re not gonna dump you in prison because you think you’re useless!” he exclaimed. “You’re a far cry from it.”  
  
Jesse blinked hard, feeling the telltale sign of tears threatening to make their ugly appearance. “But I am,” he choked out. “Firing a gun from my right hand is awful. I missed so many shots tryin’ to get outta there. Goddamned embarrassin’.”  
  
“We’re working on a custom prosthetic for you,” Gabriel said. “I think you’ll like it. It’s even got a skull on it.”  
  
As nice as it did sound, Jesse still shook his head. “I can’t use Deadeye with a metal arm. I gotta _feel_ the gun, y’know? Even just shooting one normally.” He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do that with a metal arm. Some came with sensors and all sorts of fancy tech, but he doubted it would be the same. Nothing would ever be the same.  
  
“So learn to shoot with your right.”  
  
Jesse scowled and sent him a flat look. “We all can’t be ambidextrous like you, Gabe,” he snapped. “You’re askin’ me to relearn how to shoot a gun from scratch.”  
  
“I am.”  
  
Jesse stared at him. “You’re nuttier than a shithouse rat.”  
  
Gabriel finally cracked a smirk. “Am I? I have faith in you and your skills, kid. What’s so nutty about that?”  
  
The tears finally broke through his defenses; Jesse lowered his head, letting his hair fall in front of his face. Gabriel squeezed his good knee, wrenching a sob out of him. Jesse appreciated that the man wasn’t trying to smother him in a hug or any of that - he was sick of the special attention already and he’d only just woke up.  
  
“What does it matter if I relearn to shoot anyway?” he grumbled eventually, wiping his eyes. “Fisher told me the UN pulled the plug on Overwatch.”  
  
Gabriel’s attitude soured at the reminder. “Yeah, they did. Whatever - we’re all taking bets on when they’ll come grovelling to us, begging us to come back and reform Overwatch when the shit inevitably hits the fan sometime down the road.”   
  
“They won’t just like, replace y’all with a better unit?”  
  
Gabriel arched a disbelieving brow. “We _are_ the best,” he reminded him. “Handpicked for a reason. My point is, when they do try to rally us up again, I want you there.”   
  
“But - ”  
  
“No buts. I told you - you’re an asset to the team, even now. You just gotta practice a bit with your right arm. If you want,” he added hastily, suddenly realizing just how damn pushy he was being. “I mean, you’re your own man. You can always decline. I know some of us will when the call comes in.”  
  
Jesse wasn’t sure what the hell he wanted anymore. He wanted his arm back, he knew that much, and he wanted Genji to be okay. But both of those things were out of his hands. Hand.   
  
“I’ll think about it,” he muttered.   
  
Gabriel squeezed his shoulder. “That’s all I’m asking.”

* * *

 

Physical therapy was a pain in the ass, Jesse quickly learned. Not only did he have to learn how to use his new shiny prosthetic - which was cool, all things considered, but still shit compared to the real deal - he also had to essentially relearn how to walk. The cocktail of pain medications inside him only did so much to keep the aches and pains away. And boy, did he ache these days.  
  
He noticed about a week later that there were armed men standing outside his room almost around the clock. “What’s up with them?” he asked Gabriel. “Do y’all really not trust me not to try to escape or what?”  
  
Gabriel hesitated. “We have concerns,” he admitted, “about that cut on the back of your head. You remember what Matsu said about them knowing people who can force someone to behave?”  
  
Jesse stared at him. “But Hanzo and Genji - I asked,” he started babbling. “I asked after I woke up they said they didn’t have that sorta tech - that they don’t work with terrorists.”   
  
The older man just frowned and averted his gaze.   
  
“You think I’m lyin’.”  
  
“No!” Gabriel blurted, wide eyes snapping to his. “But they might’ve been lying. You might be forced to think that’s what happened - ”  
  
“You didn’t see Hanzo’s reaction,” Jesse argued, trying not to sound desperate. The last thing he wanted to do was be monitored twenty-four-seven because nobody trusted him not to snap and kill everyone. “They told him to lie and tell me that I was under their control now, and when I called him out on it, he freaked out and slapped me and shit. And why would Genji lie to me when he risked so much just to get me outta there, Gabe?”  
  
Gabriel considered this, nodding a little. “Angela said she didn’t find anything when she scanned you and ran all her tests,” he admitted eventually.  
  
“But you still don’t think I’m safe.”  
  
“It’s not me. I’d take you home right the fuck now if I could. The guards are just a precaution for as long as you’re here, okay? Just...ignore them for now.”  
  
Jesse huffed, irritated and insulted and a little bit scared all at the same time. 

* * *

One day after a pretty successful physical therapy session, Gabriel snuck him out of the hospital and took him to a shooting range. It went about as well as Jesse predicted it would: all too soon he was throwing his Peacekeeper in a fit of blind rage and weeping on the floor like a goddamned baby.   
  
“I can’t,” he sobbed into Gabriel’s shoulder. “I told you I was useless now.”  
  
“You are not worthless,” Gabriel hissed, holding him tighter. “You’ve only been at this for an hour, kid. Of course you’re not doing great. Even _I_ didn’t learn to shoot a gun overnight.”  
  
As much as Jesse knew Gabriel was right, it didn’t stop the depression from kicking in full-force. Confined to his hospital room with nothing but a shitty TV and his thoughts to keep him occupied, it was only a matter of time. The fact that the world was gradually getting shittier and shittier thanks to the lack of special task forces certainly didn’t help matters.   
  
_Overwatch would still be around if you hadn’t fucked up_ , his brain kept telling him as yet another depressing news story flashed across the TV. _Talon might have been buried by now if not for you. All those innocent people caught in terrorists attacks and riots and whatnot would still be alive if not for you._   
  
The depression waned a little when Gabriel came into his room a few days after the firing lesson disaster, his clunky boots making telltale thunks and thwacks on the tile. “Someone’s come to help you shoot,” he said.  
  
Jesse didn’t bother to turn over in bed to glower at him. “Tell ‘em they can shove their gun up their - ”  
  
A sharp, stern sentence in Arabic made Jesse shut his mouth and straighten his back in one quick instance - an automatic reaction even while he was lying down. He sat up, at attention immediately, only to let out a happy little sniffle at the sight of Ana standing with Gabriel in the doorway, her hands on her hips.  
  
“Ma’am,” he choked out, lifting his hand in a shaky salute. He was so afraid he’d never see her again; learning she’d left before he’d even come out of his coma had been a pretty big downer - the first of many. He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to her or Fareeha.  
  
“At ease,” Ana said, offering him a warm, if a little hesitant smile. “I heard you need some pointers.”  
  
“I...yeah.” He ducked his head, bashful. “If you don’t mind.”  
  
“Of course. But first…” Ana stepped aside to allow a blur of blue and gold to dash into the room.  
  
“Jesse!” Fareeha squealed, throwing her arms out as she charged at him.   
  
Jesse grunted upon impact, but was quick to return the squirming girl’s hug. “Well howdy, lil’ lady,” he choked out, meeting Ana and Gabriel’s warm gazes from over Fareeha’s shoulder. “S’good to see you, too.”  
  
Fareeha looked at his new prosthetic, eyes wide. “It’s cool,” she confirmed, taking it in her grasp. “I like the skull.”  
  
“Me too,” Jesse said, wiping his organic hand across his nose. “Maybe now I’ll finally win an arm wrestlin’ match with you.”  
  
She grinned at him. “Not a chance!”  
  
With their tearful reunion out of the way, they headed to the shooting range. By the end of the day, Jesse’s aim was slightly better, and a gun didn’t feel quite so foreign in his right hand anymore. He still had a long way to go, but with Ana there to firmly guide him through it and Fareeha and Gabriel cheering him on, Jesse felt - for the first time in a while - almost confident.   
  
“Thank you,” he told Gabriel later when the man was returning him to his hospital room.   
  
Gabriel just smirked and ruffled his hair. “What’re friends for?”

* * *

Nearly two months of physical therapy and close monitoring later, Jesse was finally given the go-ahead to be discharged. It only struck him then as he was being wheeled out of the hospital that he had nowhere to go now that Overwatch had been disbanded. He was essentially homeless, even with the decent amount of cash he had in the bank.   
  
He was running through a list of options in his head when he noticed Jack of all people standing by the pickup location. The man brightened up when he noticed him.   
  
“Hey, McCree,” he greeted warmly, giving him an arm up out of the wheelchair. He didn’t try to help him further - something Jesse appreciated greatly. He’d been manhandled and babied enough to last a lifetime, thank you. It was bad enough he had to use a cane for another three months.  
  
“What’re you doin’ here?” Jesse asked him.   
  
Jack cocked a brow. “To pick you up,” he said. “Gabriel’s frantically cleaning the spare room in the apartment - otherwise he would have been the one to come get you. He doesn’t trust me with a vacuum I guess.”  
  
Jesse stared at him. “Wait, what? You - am I stayin’ with y’all?”  
  
“Unless you’ve got another place in mind.” Jack shrugged. “We all just assumed you would, at least until you could get back on your feet.” He looked him up and down. “Uh. Literally and financially.”  
  
“But - I mean, won’t I be gettin’ in the way of y’all? How’re you gonna have a roll in the hay with me around?”  
  
Jack sent him a flat look, his pale cheeks only turning the slightest shade of pink. “If we didn’t let you stop us in Overwatch, we’re not gonna let you stop us now in our own home,” he pointed out. “That being said, I suggest you invest in some earplugs.”  
  
That wrenched a small laugh out of him. “Well. And here I was gettin’ ready to look for a park bench to sleep on,” Jesse tried to joke. He felt a lump in the back of his throat forming, but he was quick to swallow it down. He was sick of crying, even over good things.  
  
“Not necessary.” Jack opened the passenger door of his car. “Now let’s get you home.”

* * *

About a month after being discharged from the hospital, Jesse got the call from Angela that Genji was well enough to come out of his coma.   
  
“He’s probably going to want somebody familiar there with him when he comes out of it,” she explained over the phone. “I figured you are the best candidate.”  
  
He certainly wasn’t going to argue with that. Genji was thousands of miles away from the only home he’d ever known, and his whole family was dead or missing. “Alone” was a bit of an understatement.  
  
By the time he got there, Genji was already half awake. He was out of his healing chamber and on a normal bed, though his limbs were still gone, undergoing the final bits of maintenance before they were given to him.   
  
Jesse sat down on the edge of his bed, trembling with a mixture of anxiety and glee as his friend finally opened his eyes. “Well hey there, handsome.”  
  
Genji blinked slowly at him, then cracked a grin, still dazzling even with his metal jaw. “Howdy, cowboy,” he slurred, only to make a face. “Tastes like...a burp died in my mouth…”  
  
Jesse choked on a laugh that sounded more like a strangled sob in his ears. “That’s what happens when you wake up from a coma,” he told him. “We should start a coma club.”  
  
Genji’s brow furrowed. “Coma? You?”  
  
“Yeah. Check it out.” He lifted up his shirt to reveal the faint scar from the bullet that had torn through him. “Got sniped right before the others rescued me. I was literally home free and then died like an idiot.”  
  
“Died?” Genji echoed, his frown deepening. “Yet you are here. Is this heaven?”  
  
Jesse grinned. “Was that an attempt at a pickup line? Naw, this ain’t heaven. Heaven better not be a goddamned hospital room. Think I’d rather go to hell if that’s the case.”  
  
Genji just looked confused now, hardly hearing his words. The haze from sleep was leaving him faster, giving him more cognizance. It was only a matter of time until he noticed what had become of himself.   
  
He looked down and froze. “My body,” he choked out, jerking his shoulders. He began to visibly panic when he tried to move the rest of himself and realized that there was nothing there to move anymore. “Jesse - m-my body, my body…!”  
  
“It’s okay,” Jesse started saying, already sounding too desperate. “I’m sorry, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay, Genji - ”  
  
The cyborg was hyperventilating now as he continued to try to move limbs that no longer existed beyond wires. The machines behind him starting to beep and chirp with alarm as his pulse increased, and Jesse was powerless to do anything to calm him down.   
  
“Why? Why?” Genji babbled, hardly reacting when Jesse moved into his space and wrapped his arms around him, mindful of his hardware. “Why did you do this to me?”  
  
“You’re alive,” Jesse told him. “We saved you, you’re alive - ”  
  
“You should have let me die,” Genji wailed angrily. “You should have let me die.”  
  
His words broke Jesse’s heart. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, holding his friend tighter. “You’re gonna be okay, Genji. We’re gonna be okay.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter for drug and alcohol abuse.

It was easy to say it then - that they were going to be okay. Jesse wanted so badly to believe it, but as the days passed, as the nightmares and panic attacks grew more frequent, the urge to drink and smoke growing, Jesse started losing hope. He stopped practicing with his revolver. He stopped going to physical therapy. He stopped caring.  
  
Genji wasn’t any better off. He might have gotten a second chance at life, but what good was a second chance when you would rather be dead? He didn’t talk about it - hell, he hardly spoke at all these days unless he was yelling at someone - but Jesse knew the man was suffering in his new body. Not inhuman, but not human enough for his tastes or any other close-minded asshole. Jesse swore the next person who called him an omnic would be eating his fist.  
  
Almost six months had passed before Genji had been cleared to leave the hospital. There were still tubes sticking out of his body, the only parts of him exposed his eyes and the left side of his upper torso and arm, but Angela said that he was more or less ready to go. His gait was stiff when he walked, his gaze narrow and angry. He radiated a simmering fury that Jesse could practically taste in the air around him.  
  
It became apparent why the UN allowed them to save Genji’s life when men in suits came to take him away the second he set foot outside the hospital. Angela started crying when she realized that the UN had deceived her, had used her life-saving powers for their own awful agenda to create what they dubbed a “killing machine.” Gabriel very nearly throttled the suits, punching one the second he got too close to Genji and spewing threats so vicious that they eventually backed down.  
  
“I didn’t know,” Angela wept, turning her watery gaze on Genji. “If I had known - I’m sorry, Genji.”  
  
And Genji...Genji said nothing.  
  
Gabriel took Genji into his and Jack’s home as well, but that only lasted about three weeks before both Jesse and Genji decided to rent out their own shitty apartment across town, unable to stand the hovering and nagging from Gabriel and Jack to clean themselves up and resume therapy. Deep down, Jesse knew they meant well, and a part of him was grateful that someone gave enough of a shit about either of them to want to see them succeed, but the angry, bitter part of him was sick of it.   
  
To say they suffered from ghost pains was a little bit of an understatement. They did whatever they could to dampen it - including abusing the medications they’d been given to help with their aches. Excessive drinking came easy to them as well. The only method that they hadn’t started abusing was sex, but that didn’t last long.  
  
“Do I disgust you now?” Genji asked him one night.   
  
Jesse blinked awake, only to find the cyborg straddling him in their shared bed. It was the closest they’d been since walking out of the hospital. “”Course not,” he grumbled, trying to sober up. Codeine was a blessing and a curse.   
  
“You haven’t touched me at all since I became like this.” Genji’s red eyes were aglow in the dim lighting of the room, his face as expressionless as ever. “Surely you must think this body is repulsive.”  
  
“Just didn’t think you’d want me touchin’ you.”  
  
“And why wouldn’t I? Sex has always been my preferred method of escaping reality. You know this.”  
  
“‘Cos it’s my fault you’re like this now,” Jesse spat, scowling up at him.   
  
Genji didn’t so much as blink. “I know exactly who did this to me.”  
  
That night, Genji took what he wanted from Jesse, and Jesse let him, content to let the cyborg put his new body to use in ways not so different from his old one. For a while they forgot everything, basked in a high that no drug could ever replicate. But then the sun rose, and Jesse found himself reaching for the bottle of whiskey he kept on the bedside table.  
  
Time passed, and none of it got easier. Perhaps a part of it was because neither of them were really doing anything to come to terms with what happened, with their new equipment and handicaps - or so Ana told Jesse one night when he’d confided in her over the phone that he wasn’t doing well.  
  
“How am I supposed to move past any of that?” he groused quietly. Genji was sleeping in their bedroom, or at least trying to. Rest didn’t come easy these days. “I can’t sleep without - without help, my goddamned arm hurts even though it’s not attached to me anymore. I’m broken, Ana.”  
  
“Have you told this to Angela? To Gabriel?” Ana clicked her tongue. “I could tell them, but what good would that do? You have to want to seek help, Jesse. You and Genji both.”  
  
Jesse wasn’t about to leave Genji to suffer on his own, of course. The guy hadn’t said anything about seeking help for his own problems, so Jesse resigned himself to hurting alongside him.  
  
Or so he thought. Several days later Genji approached him out of goddamned nowhere and announced, "I am going back to Hanamura. I am going to hunt down every last member of the Shimada clan and kill them."  
  
Jesse blinked at him, not surprised in the slightest. "Sounds like a plan," he commented, sucking on the last of his cigarette. "When do we we leave?"  
  
Genji shook his head. "This is a solo mission."  
  
That had Jesse sitting up with a scowl. "Jesus, Genji, what if you need backup? Bring _somebody_ along if you don't want me comin'."  
  
Genji just chuckled mirthlessly and brought his hand up, flexing his cybernetic fingers. "I am stronger now," he said. "Faster. You need not worry about me. The clan is my responsibility."  
  
"I'm always gonna worry about you, you prick," Jesse spat, flicking the butt of his cigarette onto the ground. "If you get your stupid cyborg ass killed because you were too goddamned proud to ask for help, I'm gonna be fuckin' pissed."  
  
"Noted."  
  
Jesse fumbled for another cigarette and cursed when he realized he was out again. "Goddammit. At least keep in touch while you're there, asshole. And you better have some cool stories to tell me when you get back."  
  
Genji said nothing for a long moment. "I will not be coming back,” he murmured.  
  
" _What_?" Jesse's anger spiked, fueled by the sudden chill of anxiety in his gut. "The fuck you mean? This better not be a fuckin' suicide mission, Genji, I swear to - "  
  
"No, no!" Genji whirled on him, eyes wide. "I did not mean it that way. It...being here, sitting around doing nothing - it is not good for me. It is not good for you, either. I am dragging you down into this dark pit of despair with me.”  
  
“Bullshit - ”  
  
“Do not try to tell me you haven’t stopped going to therapy or the shooting range because you feel as though you must say here and suffer with me,” Genji snapped. There it was - a flicker of that rage simmering beneath Genji’s skin, the anger that made Jesse uncomfortable sometimes, especially when he was facing the brunt of it. “I am sick of it - the pitying looks, the constant badgering for therapy, feeling like a stranger in my own disgusting body.”  
  
Jesse sat back, crestfallen. He knew Genji wasn’t happy with his body, but actually hearing just how badly he hated it, hated himself because of it - ‘heartbreaking’ wasn’t a strong enough word.  
  
Genji took some deep breaths, steadying himself. “I am physically strong, but my spirit is weak. I feel like something is missing from myself. I want to find it, whatever it is, wherever it is." He ducked his head, almost embarrassed. "I don't know how to explain it better, sorry."  
  
Jesse had to bite his tongue to keep from lashing out again, snapping about how much it hurt that he wasn't enough to be that "something," even just platonically. He was useless - why would Genji even consider bringing him along? Hell, it still baffled him that Genji didn’t outright blame him for his current dysphoria.  
  
"Keep in touch," he choked out, tilting his hat down to hide his pathetic tears. "I hope you find whatever it is you're lookin' for, pardner."  
  
Genji offered him a tired, relieved smile and turned away. "As do I."

* * *

Jesse hadn’t realized how dependent on Genji he'd gotten over the past couple of months until Gabriel sat him down and told him, "You need to clean yourself up."  
  
The statement confused Jesse, but that was probably because he was only half-conscious from a lovely cocktail of pain medications and booze currently churning around in his body. He squinted up at his ex-mentor. “Huh.”  
  
Gabriel held up a pill bottle. Jesse had swiped it out of Angela's stash a week ago during a routine checkup at her office. It would have been enough to keep him nice and happy for another three weeks if he rationed them, but now it sat empty in Gabriel's grasp.  
  
He groaned and flopped back against the couch. "Those were mine."  
  
"No, they were Angela's," Gabriel said. He didn't sound angry, but he sure as hell looked disappointed, maybe even borderline worried. "Jesse, what the hell?"  
  
"Shut up. Leave me alone."  
  
"You're a mess," Gabriel spat. "If you're not drunk, you're high on pain meds or weed - "  
  
"Don't fuckin' lecture me," Jesse snapped, opening his eyes to glower at the older man. "I don't need this shit from you."  
  
"You're on my couch. You’ve been living in my house, eating my food, using my shower for the past six weeks - and you're addicted to drugs and alcohol. Damn fuckin' straight I'm gonna corner your ass and demand an explanation - "  
  
Jesse jerked up, eyes wild. "I ain't your son," he snarled, jabbing a threatening finger at the other man. "Maybe if I was, you would've gotten me outta there before everythin' went to shit."  
  
Gabriel flinched hard and recoiled; Jesse knew he was making some seriously low blows here, but he was too angry, too fucked up in his mind to shut his damn mouth now that he'd actually spat some of his dark thoughts out.  
  
"I don't want your pity, I don't want any fuckin' lectures. I wanna drink my goddamned booze and chug my goddamned pain pills and sleep without havin’ any shitty dreams for goddamned once.”  
  
Gabriel stared at him, his jaw ticking. "You can have those things," he eventually said. "But not in my house. Pack your shit and get out."  
  
That had Jesse deflating rapidly. "What?"  
  
"Drugs or a roof over your head. Your choice."  
  
"You're gonna throw me out? Abandon me again?" Jesse could hear the hitch in his voice, feel himself starting to tremble with a mixture of the drugs and panic welling up in his belly. "Great, should've seen this shit comin'. Everyone fuckin' leaves me behind."  
  
"Jesse - "  
  
"Ana and Fareeha left, Genji left. Why not the rest of y'all? It was only a matter of time." He jerked to his feet, trying not to fall over. He was suddenly super dizzy and his stomach was doing weird things. "I stop bein' useful and y'all don't want me anymore. I fuckin' knew it would happen, I knew - "  
  
His stomach lurched, and suddenly he was vomiting all over himself and the rug. He hadn’t eaten in a day, maybe more for all he could remember, so there was only booze and bile splattering down his front.  
  
"Jesse!" Gabriel blurted, jumping up. "Hey, it's okay - you're okay. Let's move to the bathroom, c'mon."  
  
Jesse let himself be manhandled into the tub, suddenly too exhausted to care if he was being babied or not. Gabriel peeled his soiled shirt off him and turned on the hot water to wash the rest of the filth off.  
  
"You're okay," Gabriel was still babbling. He sounded desperate, practically near tears as he pulled Jesse into his arms. It was only then Jesse realized how badly he was shaking. It wasn't because of the water - he was having a bad reaction to all the shit he’d consumed. Not the first time, but still pretty awful to go through and probably just as scary to witness.  
  
"'M not," Jesse gurgled, giving in and leaning into Gabriel's space. His teeth were chattering so hard his jaw was starting to ache. "M' not okay, ‘m not."  
  
"You will be," Gabriel assured him. "I'm here, I got you, hijo."  
  
That stupid word is enough to break Jesse down completely, crumbling the walls he’d carefully constructed around himself like they were made of sand. “I need help,” he sobbed.  
  
“You’re gonna get it,” Gabriel promised. “You’ve suffered enough, Jesse. Let us help you now.”  
  
Jesse shut his eyes, shuddering, and let Gabriel in.

* * *

At some ungodly hour of the morning several months later, Jesse’s phone started buzzing with an incoming call from an unknown number. He fumbled for it, still half asleep, and slurred out a greeting into the receiver.  
  
“Hello, Jesse,” Genji said.  
  
At once Jesse was awake and sitting up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Genji? Well shit, it’s good to hear your voice,” he said, unable to keep from grinning.  
  
“You as well,” Genji said, sounding just as happy as Jesse felt. “Apologies for taking so long to contact you. The Shimada clan is no more. I have dealt with the elders and those with the closest ties to the clan, but I am sure there will be stragglers.”  
  
“So nothin’ to worry about,” Jesse concluded for him, sighing with relief. The world may have been in the shitter without Overwatch around to try to keep things stable and safe, but at least the Shimada clan wouldn’t be able to contribute to the chaos.  
  
“Indeed. The empire will never be what it was,” Genji agreed. “But how are you? Have you gotten a job yet?”  
  
“Oh, that’s funny comin’ from you. I’m - I’m okay, I think. Stopped with the drugs. Picked up shootin’ lessons again. Ana’s back so she’s helpin’ me a lot.”  
  
“That is good to hear,” Genji said, sounding truly happy for him.  
  
“How about you, though? How you feelin’ now that you dealt with the clan?”  
  
Genji hesitated. “I thought getting rid of the them would bring me peace,” he admitted quietly. “But I am still tormented.” He didn’t elaborate further, but he didn’t need to.  
  
“The others have helped me here,” Jesse offered with equal softness. “If you come back, maybe we can all do the same for you.”  
  
“It’s more than just physical and emotional turmoil,” Genji admitted. “My spirit is crushed. I don’t know how to go about mending it. I am still so angry. I have still not found that ‘something’ I am searching for that will put me at peace.”  
  
“Have you tried, y’know, findin’ someone who dabbles in the spiritual? Like a priest or a monk?”  
  
Genji was quiet for a while. “No,” he admitted almost sheepishly. “I suppose that would at least be a step in the right direction, eh?”  
  
Jesse laughed. “I think so. It couldn’t hurt, at any rate.”  
  
“I will do that. Thank you, Jesse. I’ll keep in touch.”  
  
Jesse leaned back in bed, clicking his tongue. “Aw, you’re hangin’ up on me already?” he teased.  
  
“I am a busy cyborg ninja,” Genji pointed out. “What is it you wish to talk about?”  
  
“What’re you wearin’?”  
  
There was a beat, then the gorgeous sound of Genji laughing filled the void. It had been a long time since he’d laughed so freely. “You are too much, Jesse McCree,” he said in between chuckles. “I’m glad to see you are getting back to your old lecherous self.”  
  
“Hey, _you_ were the one who seduced _me_ back in the day!” Jesse pointed out, snickering. “The old Genji would never think twice about tryin’ to have phone sex with me.”  
  
“The new Genji is currently standing on a busy street corner in broad daylight. But if you must know: yoga pants and that hideous black and yellow checkered shirt of yours.”  
  
Jesse’s grin merely widened. “I knew you swiped it! Bet it looks great on you. But it would look even better on my bedroom floor - ”  
  
“Good _bye_ , Jesse,” Genji said, and Jesse almost missed it over the sound of his own laughter.

* * *

When Genji got in contact with him again, it was via a handwritten letter delivered by snail mail. Genji’s handwriting was downright atrocious; it took Jesse several attempts to actually understand what the guy was saying.  
  
_Jesse_ , it said. _You will not believe where I am. Have you ever been to Nepal on your journeys in Overwatch? The mountains are beautiful, but it is so cold that I am actually grateful I can hardly feel it anymore._  
  
_I did what you suggested and sought out those of a spiritual sort. I traveled to many places, met people of varying faiths, but nothing they had to say put me at ease. There is still a rage burning inside me. A hatred for what I am now. Neither human nor omnic. Something awful in between._  
  
Jesse frowned, saddened that after years of travelling seeking solace, his friend was still suffering.   
  
_One of them would not give up in trying to bestow his wisdom on me. His name is Zenyatta, an omnic monk from the Shambali Monastery stationed up in these mountains. I found him most annoying at first. Some of the things he’s said - and is still saying - are confusing, often ridiculous. But I am still with him, learning from him, for some strange reason. He is trying to make me believe that despite my cybernetic parts, I still have the heart and soul of a man inside me. It sounds poetic, doesn’t it? And I want to believe this. I want to very badly, Jesse. But it is hard._  
  
_It helps knowing that you are encouraging me from the other side of the world. Sometimes when I am meditating, I swear I can feel it - this warmth throughout me, fueling me, keeping me focused and hopeful. Know that I will not waste this opportunity. Know that I am rooting for you as well._  
  
_Take care,_  
 _Genji_  
  
Jesse reread the letter about ten times, trying to absorb it all. They were healing, he realized, sniffling. Finally, over a year after their painful ordeal, they were both on their way to mending themselves up.   
  
Gabriel poked his head in from the kitchen. “Everything okay?” he asked.  
  
Jesse wiped at his eyes. “Yeah,” he said, cracking a wet grin. “For the first time in a while, yeah.”

* * *

Things only got better for him when he reached the decision to do a little traveling of his own. He’d been wanting to for a while - just head out west in search of his own form of peace - but had lacked the funds for it. That and a vehicle.   
  
“You should call Fisher,” Jack suggested when Jesse mentioned it to him. “He’s been trying to sell his old station wagon for a while now that he’s got kids.”  
  
“Man, how am I supposed to pick up dudes in a _station wagon_?” Jesse groaned, slapping a hand over his eyes.   
  
Jack just sent him a flat, unimpressed look. “You could always walk.”  
  
That was even less cool than the station wagon, so Jesse pulled up his big boy pants, gathered the last of his savings, and made the call to come meet up with his old squad mate.   
  
Of course Fisher gave it to him at half-price, claiming to just be glad to get rid of the damn thing before his kids were out of diapers. It still ran well despite its age, though Fisher heavily suggested taking it in for inspection before hitting the road. When that netted Jesse no problems, he was struck with the sudden realization that this was happening. He wasn't sure if he was more nervous or excited to start his own journey of self-healing.  
  
Before Jesse left, Gabriel gave him a gift - an embroidered serape, of all things. “So you’ll really fit the role of a traveling cowboy,” he said, shrugging and trying his damnedest not to look bashful. “Sorry I couldn’t afford a horse to go with it.”  
  
Jesse stared at the bright red fabric in his hands, smoothed his hands over the woolen material. It would keep him warm during those cold desert nights, that was for sure. “Thanks,” he murmured, putting it on. Fit like a glove. “How do I look?”  
  
“Like an asshole,” Gabriel told him, smooshing his hat down onto his head. “Wear it in good health.”  
  
“Sure thing, Dad,” Jesse teased, earning another shove from the older man.

* * *

Despite being born and raised out west, Jesse didn’t remember much of it. Too much of his early life had been devoted to serving a dirty cause. He hadn’t taken the time to really appreciate the scenery, the atmosphere - anything that made the wild west what it was.  
  
Route 66 still made him nervous, he realized quickly as he strolled down the long, winding road through the mostly deserted town he used to know inside and out. It didn’t feel right coming back there after so long, so he didn’t stick around - just long enough to take care of a few Deadlock members who hadn’t gotten the memo all those years ago. There was so much more to see beyond the red-orange canyons of his old hometown, and damned if he didn’t want to see it all.  
  
Weeks turned into months, months into years. The wandering traveler lifestyle fit him well, though it was undeniably lonely at times, especially when the nightmares caught up to him. One too many times he pulled his revolver on the anonymous men he’d picked up for a roll in the sack the night before, caught between dream and reality. “Awkward” didn’t even begin to cover it.  
  
To combat the stress and negative thoughts, he kept in touch with the others, even coming by to visit Gabriel on occasion if his travels brought him that way. He and Jack had moved out of LA into the countryside, claiming that Jack hated the city life and that it was time for a change of their own...as boring as it was.  
  
“I’m losing my damned mind,” Gabriel groused, wrenching a laugh out of Jesse. “I thought we’d get used to this domestic shit eventually, but it’s been what, six, seven years now since we were disbanded? Super soliders were not meant to retire.”  
  
“I keep telling him to find a hobby,” Jack said as he came in with some cans of beer for them. “If only to get him to shut up about how bored he is.”  
  
Gabriel sent him a pissy look. “I _have_ hobbies! But there’s only so much knitting and jogging and volunteering I can do at that animal shelter in town before that shit gets boring too!”  
  
“Sounds like you’re doin’ a damn good job of bein’ domestic to me,” Jesse offered, cheeky. “At least bein’ at the animal shelter means you get to play with dogs all day, right?”  
  
Gabriel huffed as he cracked open one of the beers. “I wanna adopt ‘em all,” he mumbled.   
  
“You got the time and space now, don’t you?”  
  
Gabriel hummed into his beer, eyes sliding over to the data pad on the coffee table, which was currently projecting the front page of the local newspaper. Surprise surprise, Talon was up to no good again. “For now,” he said.  
  
Jesse leaned forward, growing serious. “What are y’all plannin’?”  
  
“Nothing yet,” Jack replied, gaze also on the data pad. “We’re all hoping the UN stops being stubborn and invests in some sort of task force, if not Overwatch.”  
  
“And if they don’t?”  
  
Jack and Gabriel exchanged glances. “Super soldiers were not meant to retire,” Gabriel repeated.

* * *

During his travels, Jesse did not expect to run into any familiar faces, least of all Genji. They had kept in touch through letters, though few and far between since Jesse had no permanent address. Now here he was, standing on the doorstep of Jesse’s motel room at the crack of dawn, his old clunky prosthetics replaced with slim, green and silver armor that covered every inch of him. Still, to Jesse, he was essentially running around butt naked.  
  
“Where are your pants?” was the first thing Jesse blurted.   
  
Genji just tilted his head. “That is a fine hello,” he said flatly, his voice sounding more robotic thanks to the visor over his face. “And also funny coming from you at the moment.”  
  
Indeed, Jesse was currently down to his boxers and barefoot. In his defense, though, he was still kind of drunk from the night before. At least he’d remembered to grab his Peacekeeper before opening the door.  
  
“Fine,” Jesse relented, “but I’m still wearin’ more than you. You look like a naked superhero.”  
  
“At least I haven’t gotten fat and hairy.”  
  
Jesse frowned at him, unimpressed, until he finally couldn’t take it anymore. “C’mere, you neon green bastard,” he said, cracking a toothy grin as he opened his arms to his friend.   
  
Genji was one step ahead of him and threw himself into Jesse’s embrace, wrapping his arms and legs around him like a spastic octopus. Jesse burst out laughing and wobbled his way back into the motel room, using his ass to shut the door.  
  
“How’d you track me down?” Jesse asked after dumping his friend on the bed.  
  
“I have my ways,” Genji said, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back on the mattress.   
  
“You called Gabe, didn’t you?”  
  
The ninja deflated. “Okay, fine,” he mumbled, huffing while Jesse grinned. “He might have pointed me in the right direction.”  
  
“Well, I’m glad,” Jesse told him as he joined him on the bed, lying on his side close to him. “But why?”  
  
Genji shrugged, then reached up and unhinged his faceplate. The scars around his eyes had faded with time, Jesse noted, and his hair was as floofy and out of control as ever. “I missed you,” Genji admitted, smiling. “I have completed most of my training with my master and felt whole enough to start traveling again.”  
  
“Where’ve you been to?” Jesse asked, propping his head up in his hand.   
  
“Oh, all over at this point. But truly the one place I wanted to be was at your side again, even just for a little while,” he admitted, smile widening. It was less cocky, Jesse noticed - more serene. There was a gentle warmth coming off of him that eased Jesse’s own aches and pains - and for once it wasn’t because of his cyborg appendages.  
  
“You’re different,” Jesse said quietly, reaching out to tug on one of his wayward strands of hair.  
  
“Good different, I hope?”  
  
“Yeah. I dunno, you just seem calmer.”  
  
Genji smiled. “I am whole now,” he said. “I found that piece of me that had been missing since my revival. My master helped me find it, tame it, accept it. I am finally at peace with many things in my life now.”  
  
Jesse lowered his head to rest it on Genji’s shoulder. “Remind me to thank him if I ever meet him,” he mumbled. “God, I’m glad for you, pardner.”  
  
Genji hummed, then rolled Jesse onto his back and climbed aboard him. “As wise and experienced as my master is,” he began cheekily, “there is one thing he did not manage to tame.”  
  
Jesse grinned hard enough to make his jaw ache. “Well thank friggin’ Christ for that.”  
  
They came together easily, like they had been apart for mere weeks rather than years. Genji’s body was warm under Jesse’s careful hands, heating up the more they kissed. Faintly Jesse heard whirring; it made him snicker when he realized that he was literally getting Genji’s motor revving. The whirring only grew louder when Jesse reached under Genji and started running his thumb along his folds, finding them already puffy and wet with arousal.  
  
Though Jesse had thought to take things at an easy pace, Genji grew tired of his careful probing and started pawing at him, muttering things in Japanese. Jesse got the gyst of it and pulled his cock out of his shorts, already half-hard. Genji brought it to full mast in record time with a few dexterous strokes, then guided him towards his groin.   
  
“Slow,” Genji blurted quietly, sucking in a sharp breath as Jesse pushed into his wet folds a little too quickly. “I haven’t...not with anyone since you.”  
  
Jesse arched a brow. “Not since me, huh?” he asked, slipping a finger inside him. He very nearly shuddered at the warmth he felt there; it had been far too long. “Am I that special?”  
  
The ninja sputtered out a breathy, hitching laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he murmured, arching into his touch as Jesse added another slick finger. “There have been others in my travels. But I have only let you touch me here like this.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Genji didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to.   
  
Jesse continued to finger him until Genji finally batted his hand away, uttering that he was ready. Jesse pushed himself back into Genji, slow and easy. He couldn’t help but hiss at the tightness around him, how glorious it felt. Genji seemed to think he felt just as good; all too soon he deemed himself adjusted enough to start riding Jesse in earnest, pressing down on Jesse’s shoulders while he took his pleasure from him. Jesse let him take the reins as he so often did, content to watch Genji come apart above him with every thrust and grind.  
  
“Jesse,” Genji whined, grinding his hips down onto Jesse’s lap. He let go of his shoulders to lean back, his hands finding purchase on Jesse’s thighs.   
  
Jesse gaped at him, damn near drooling at the sight of the cyborg completely losing himself on his cock. His eyes snapped to where their bodies were meeting with vigor; he couldn’t help but release his hold on Genji’s hip with one hand so he could finger his clit, rubbing it in a way he knew would really make Genji lose his damn mind.  
  
Genji tensed and snapped forward, mouth gaping open as he babbled out nonsense in both English and Japanese. “More,” he ordered, and Jesse understood that much.   
  
Unfortunately for both of them, Jesse came faster than he’d hoped he would; it hit him like a train, knocking the life out of him as he clutched his partner and cried out and spilled himself deep inside. “God damn, darlin’,” he wheezed, eyes rolling in his head.   
  
He’d barely gotten his breath back when Genji snapped like a rubber band pulled too tight. He shoved Jesse down onto the bed and climbed on top of him. “Eat,” he snarled, planting himself on Jesse’s face.   
  
Jesse obeyed with a wanton moan, digging his fingers into Genji’s thighs as he got to work. The cyborg shuddered and gyrated his hips, all but smothering Jesse with his sex, but Jesse didn’t care, far too focussed on bringing his friend to the very same glorious edge that had seized him mere minutes ago.   
  
Genji came with a cry and a full-body shudder. Jesse dug his fingers into his thighs, unconsciously wishing that he could leave imprints behind on the man’s body. The next best thing happened - after Genji stopped moaning and trembling, the vents on his back and shoulders popped open with a hiss, leaking steam into the air around them.   
  
Jesse grinned, giving the man’s crotch one last lick before he slumped over onto the bed, still twitching with the aftershocks of his orgasm.   
  
“Glad to see,” Genji panted, eyes closed, “that you have not lost your touch.”  
  
Jesse chuckled as he came to rest beside his friend. His voice was hoarse, his mouth and jaw deliciously sore. “What, you think you’re the only one who gets to ride this handsome mug? Gotta stay dexterous somehow.”  
  
Genji hummed through a heavy, pleased sigh, a smirk coiling on his lips. His eyes remained closed, and for a while the duo were content to lie together while their brains slowly chugged back online.   
  
“Where’re you headed now?” Jesse asked eventually, knowing his friend wouldn’t be sticking around. Though to be fair, Jesse had plans to skip town before noon, too.   
  
“Back to Nepal,” Genji replied. “I have been away from my master for quite some time. I am eager to tell him of my travels.”  
  
“Well, leave this lil’ bit out, yeah?”  
  
“On the contrary - I’m sure he would find this quite entertaining.”  
  
Jesse thwacked him with a pillow.

* * *

A different type of call came to him a long time later, when his beard was filled out, his hat weathered by the bright western sun, and his serape fraying a little at the edges. It was Gabriel; when Jesse picked up, he fully expected it to be a routine “How are you doing?” call. They were as annoying as they were appreciated these days.  
  
Instead, Gabriel told him, “They finally caved. Overwatch is being recalled, and they want all of us back. They want,” he sucked in a shaky breath, “they want me to lead the squad again.”  
  
Jesse took a deep breath of his own. When he exhaled, something warm settled in his gut. He grinned around his cigar and said, “Just tell me when and where, jefe.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, y'all wanted a mchanzo reunion - ask and ye shall receive! It goes about as well as you'd think it would after everything, heh.
> 
> Thanks again for all the kind words and kudos!! Just a few more chapters to go~

“D.Va, tell me,” Jesse drawled, tipping his hat at the young woman as they made their way down the ramp of the airbus with their gear in tow. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”  
  
‘That’ being the mission they’d just done in London wherein two or three dozen Talon-controlled omnics were brought to their robotic knees by Hana in her MEKA suit. Granted, Jesse had taken out a couple handfuls of his own, as had Fareeha and Ana, but there was no denying that Hana had done most of the hard work. She’d maneuvered her MEKA with precision accuracy, boosting and shielding her fellow Overwatch agents when necessary. Jesse had never seen anything like it.  
  
“16-bit Hero,” Hana reported, tossing her hair as she yanked it out of a ponytail. “And I told you to call me Hana. All my friends call me Hana.” She sent him a half-assed glare. “Unless we’re not friends.”  
  
“You sure you wanna be friends with some ol’ drunkard who doesn’t know what a 16-bit Hero is?”  
  
At that, her eyes bugged out of her head as she whipped around to stare at him. “You’ve never - okay, I’m going to have to rethink this,” she said through a heavy, disgusted sigh. Behind them, Fareeha and Ana started to snicker.  
  
“Aw, don’t be like that!” Jesse cried through a hearty laugh. “I can change!”  
  
“You?” Fareeha blurted, earning a glower from the cowboy from over his shoulder. “That’s funny coming from the guy who refuses to use his phone for anything but making calls and texting.”  
  
“That’s what phones are for!” Jesse exclaimed.  
  
“Hey, hey,” came Lucio’s gleeful voice from the other end of the hangar. The kid was grinning broadly as he rolled himself over to the returning crew, popping a wheelie as he did so. “Glad to see you guys back in one piece! You’re just in time.”  
  
“For what?” Ana asked.  
  
“We’ve got a new member,” Lucio reported, rolling back and forth like an excited puppy. “Someone Genji knows. He just showed up.”  
  
“Well,” Jesse began as he followed the young man into one of the base’s many meeting rooms, “any friend of Genji’s is a friend of mine.”  
  
Or so Jesse was content to think. As he and the others filed into the room where Genji, Winston, Gabriel, and their new teammate stood, Jesse opened his mouth to greet them, only to come full-stop when he abruptly recognized him despite the facial hair and haircut.  
  
“This is Hanzo,” Genji said to the others, gesturing. “My brother.”  
  
Hanzo didn’t have time to duck out of the way of Jesse’s fists. Two punches to the jaw left him stumbling backwards, and one shot from Jesse’s Peacekeeper would have been enough to end him if Genji hadn’t stepped in front of him and deflected the bullet into the far wall.  
  
Gabriel grabbed Jesse under the arms and yanked him away from the brothers before he could do any more damage, but Jesse barely felt his presence, too zeroed in on the stunned man mere feet from him. He wasn’t sure if he was more angry or panicked at that very moment. “You piece of shit,” he snarled, damn near slobbering like a wild mutt. “You goddamned son of a bitch, how dare you show your face here, after what you did to me, to Genji! How fuckin’ _dare_ you!”  
  
It was clear even with his visor on that Genji was not bothered by his outburst - probably the only one, given the awkward silence and wide-eyed glances being exchanged by the rest of the room’s occupants. “Please calm yourself, Jesse,” he said patiently.  
  
It only further fanned the rage in Jesse’s blood. “Calm down?’” he echoed, bearing his teeth in a snarl. “You expect me to calm down with this bastard standin’ here in front of me?”  
  
“He is here because I asked him to join us.”  
  
Jesse turned his wild gaze on Winston. “Say this ain’t so,” he said, practically begging.   
  
The scientist nervously adjusted his glasses. “Genji’s right,” he said quickly. “Hanzo will make a great addition to the team.”  
  
“Great,” Jesse spat, finally jerking his arms out of Gabriel’s grasp. “He can be my replacement ‘cos I sure as hell ain’t stickin’ ‘round so long as the guy who maimed me and killed his own flesh and blood is roamin’ these halls.”  
  
Nobody tried to stop him from storming out, and that hurt almost as badly as Genji’s betrayal.  
  
Jesse didn’t head out right away, instead detouring to the roof for a much-needed smoke. It was there Gabriel eventually found him all huddled under his serape with his hat pulled low, the only sign of life coming from the glowing tip of his cigar.  
  
“Did you know he was comin’?” Jesse asked before Gabriel could even open his mouth.  
  
Gabriel sighed. “Yes.”  
  
“And you didn’t see fit to warn me.”  
  
“We all knew you’d react like this,” Gabriel said firmly. “If we risked telling you beforehand, who knows what kind of plan you might’ve cooked up to stop him. And don’t bother trying to convince me that you wouldn’t have tried.”  
  
Jesse took a deep whiff of his cigar. “Ain’t no ‘try’,” he grumbled. “Bastard would have been dead the second he walked through the door.”  
  
“Exactly.” Gabriel stood next to him, leaning on the wall. “Look, I’m not jumping for joy over this either. Don’t think for one goddamned second I forgot what that kid put us through.”  
  
“And you let him in anyway.”  
  
Gabriel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Genji forgave him.”  
  
“Hey, that's great, good for him. But not everyone can find it in their hearts to forgive the man who brutalized them." He jerked his metal arm for emphasis and sent Gabriel a scathing look.  
  
“Nobody’s asking you to forgive him. We just need everyone to work as a team.” Gabriel tilted his head. “Unless, of course, you were serious about bailing.”  
  
“I don’t want to. But I feel like I got no choice.”  
  
“‘Course you do. Just give it some thought tonight, see how you feel in the morning.”  
  
Jesse sent his mentor a flat look. “I ain’t gonna magically forgive him overnight.”  
  
“No, but you’ll be more level-headed than you are right now.”  
  
Jesse grunted as the man mussed his hat down onto his head. “Almost forty goddamned years old and you’re still treatin’ me like a kid,” he groused, batting his hand away.  
  
“Hey, everyone’s a kid compared to me,” Gabriel told him, smirking. “Go get some shut-eye. And for fuck’s sake, do not try to kill Hanzo in his sleep tonight.”  
  
Jesse snorted. It was certainly an idea, he mused, but Genji might have different thoughts on the matter. And as pissed off as Jesse was with him, with Hanzo, with everyone, he didn’t want to put a rift between himself and the younger Shimada.  
  
“No promises,” he grunted anyway, earning another hat-ruffle from Gabriel.

* * *

Genji was next to come find him. It was long after sundown and frankly way too chilly to continue sitting exposed to the bay’s bitter gusts, but Jesse’s stubbornness was just as fierce. He’d go back inside when he damn well pleased.  
  
“Shouldn’t you be babysitting?” Jesse groused the second the cyborg was within earshot.  
  
“My brother is a grown man,” Genji pointed out. “Which cannot be said for all of us, I’m afraid.”  
  
Jesse sent him a scathing look. “If you came up here to shit on me for actin’ like this, I’m gonna kick your shiny metal ass,” he snapped.  
  
“I’m not shitting on you for anything. Give me that.”  
  
Jesse resisted the urge to flick his cigar at him and instead handed it over. “Thought you quit.”  
  
“I did,” Genji told him as he popped off his visor. His hair was sticking out from under his head gear, floofy and stuck to his scarred forehead in places. He stuck the cigar in his mouth. “I am aware of what I’ve done by bringing my brother here. The others are wary. You, Gabriel, Fareeha - furious. All rightfully so.”  
  
Jesse gritted his teeth. “Then why do it?”  
  
“I told you that I found peace with myself while in Nepal,” Genji said. “The same can not be said for my brother. He is suffering, Jesse.”  
  
“So what?” Jesse spat, all but snatching the cigar out of Genji’s grasp when he offered it back. “Sufferin’ the way I suffered? The way you suffered? Gimme a goddamned break.”  
  
“You should not compare one person’s pain to another,” Genji told him. Jesse hated how calm and logical he sounded. “He did not wish to kill me. He did not wish to remove your arm. He did not want to do most things the clan ordered him to do.”  
  
“But he did it all anyway.”  
  
Genji sighed. “It is difficult to explain the kind of influence the clan had on him,” he said. “Refusing their orders was not an option. He had so much responsibility, even from birth.” He lowered his gaze. “Mostly because I refused to bear some of that burden for him.”  
  
At that, Jesse wilted, frowning a little. “You shouldn’t blame yourself.”  
  
“But I am at fault for some of it. You need to stop thinking that I was a pure, innocent victim in all of this. I did my fair share of work for the clan before I decided to dump it all on my brother and hang out in arcades all day.”   
  
Jesse sighed, expelling cigar smoke through his flared nostrils as he glowered at the ocean. He knew Genji was right, but that sure as hell didn’t mean he had to admit it.   
  
Genji tilted his head, trying to catch Jesse’s gaze. “There is something the elders drilled into his head early on. ‘With every death comes honor. With honor, redemption.’ A part of why he did not resist the elders’ orders to kill me was because he thought he would be redeeming my selfish actions through death. And even after, he still honored me by coming back to the castle every anniversary. That is where I found him, told him I forgave him, and that I still had hope for him.”  
  
“And he just, what, decided to come back here with you?”  
  
Genji snorted. “God, no. That was over a year ago. It was only pure luck that we ran into each other again a few weeks ago on the streets of Numbani. I could hardly believe this man was my brother.”  
  
That Jesse could agree with. “What’s up with the haircut and piercings anyway?”  
  
Genji hummed, thoughtful. “He is a wanted man,” he pointed out. “Changing his appearance makes sense in that aspect, though a part of me also wants to believe that he is going through a rebellious stage at the age of forty.”  
  
Jesse huffed out a low laugh. “Better late than never, I guess.”  
  
“Indeed. The look suits him, don’t you think?”  
  
Jesse opened his mouth to agree, then sent his friend a dirty look. “I don’t wanna talk about your stupid brother anymore,” he grumbled.  
  
“Fair enough,” Genji said, then moved to climb into Jesse’s lap. He plucked his hat from his head and put it atop his own, further mushing his hair down. “I have missed you, Jesse.”  
  
Jesse put his hands on Genji’s hips, giving them a squeeze. “Missed you too, sugar. Sorry I didn’t get to ask you about your trip.”  
  
“There will be time for talking later,” Genji said, leaning in for a kiss. Jesse readily accepted it, perhaps with a little more force than usual, because a moment later Genji was pulling back and smoothing his thumb across his bruised bottom lip. “Are you angry with me?” he asked, tone quiet and sweet.  
  
Jesse hummed low in his throat, practically growling, and turned his head away. Genji was trying to butter him up and he knew it now.  
  
“I am sorry to bring you this pain and anxiety,” Genji continued, moving to suck some kisses into the side of his neck while his hands skated to Jesse’s belt. “But I have hope for my brother. He thinks I am a fool, too, don’t worry.”  
  
“Can we stop,” Jesse snapped, “talkin’ about your stupid brother when you’ve got your hands down my pants?”  
  
Genji chuckled, but obeyed and got to work, pulling Jesse’s half-hard cock out of his pants. Jesse sighed as the cyborg’s hands got to work with a skillful familiarity, leaving him huffing quietly and flexing his toes inside his boots. He always felt at ease when Genji was working him like this...though being outside was relatively new. They hadn’t done this since -   
  
“Do you remember? Our first time, back in the garden in Hanamura.” Genji was apparently a mind-reader now. “It was just like this. Out in the open where anyone could find us.”  
  
Jesse huffed out a strained laugh. “You sure like talkin’ about stuff I don’t wanna think about these days, huh?”  
  
“Was that one moment in time so bad?” Genji licked his way into Jesse’s mouth, wrenching another groan out of him. “It was tender.”  
  
“Tender? You call fuckin’ in a courtyard tender?”  
  
“What would you call it?”   
  
“A damn good time is what.” Jesse planted a kiss on Genji’s cheek while his hands drifted south, fumbling. “Somethin’ I needed desperately, I think. You made me feel better, anyway.”  
  
“Would you like me to do that for you now?”  
  
“Ain’t you?” Jesse grinned up at him and reached between them to rub his cock against Genji’s wet folds. “You always make me feel better - even when you’re bein’ a lil’ shit.”  
  
Before Genji could offer him a cocky little quip in response, the sound of shoes crunching on the concrete met their ears. They turned their heads in unison just as Hanzo came around the corner, halfway to addressing his brother until he realized just what the hell he walked in on. The trio froze, wide-eyed in a moment of comical silence.  
  
“Hanzo,” Genji said, quickly dislodging himself from Jesse, who had but a split second to yank his serape down over his crotch.   
  
The other Shimada was averting his eyes, his cheeks reddening by the second as he uttered apologies in English and Japanese. Jesse scowled at him, bitter that for the second time since he’d known the brothers, Hanzo had ruined the moment between him and Genji.  
  
Once composed - including putting his face plate back on - Genji joined his brother, speaking to him in easy Japanese, like hadn’t just gotten caught sitting astride a cowboy. Eventually he turned back to Jesse, staring at him through that vibrant green visor. “I’m going to show Hanzo to his room now,” he said. “I will talk with you later, Jesse.”  
  
“Sure,” Jesse muttered, turning to face the lake. “Later.”  
  
The brothers left him sitting there, his narrowed, angry gaze zeroed in on the horizon.

* * *

Hanzo awoke with a small, hoarse cry.  
  
For a moment, he wasn’t sure where he was, as the remnants of a dream still had their claws in him, keeping him teetering from reality. He lept to his feet, fumbling blindly for his bow, only to catch sight of the yellow and white Overwatch symbol emblazoned on a duffel bag by the door. Overwatch, his battered mind repeated, and slowly Hanzo felt himself deflate as the previous day’s events caught up with him.   
  
As he gathered his wits, he remembered the cause of his panic: he’d dreamt of that day again - Children’s Day, the day he slaughtered his brother. It happened every so often, and he deserved the ensuing panic attack it riddled him with every time.   
  
The attack left him gasping into his hands and shaking on the edge of his bed. He made for his sake, desperate to end the trembling, but there wasn’t much left to sooth him. He’d drunk most of it in the evening in an attempt to have a dreamless night’s sleep. So much for that.  
  
His shaking ceased long enough for him to don some clothing and stumble his way into the kitchen. It was early enough for him to get up in search for coffee without someone questioning him too much.  
  
Hanzo did not expect to find Jesse already seated at the table, a mug of coffee in one hand. His other robotic one was gone, probably back in his room. It made sense that he wouldn’t sleep with it on. Hanzo found his own legs annoying at times, though years of being a wanted man ensured that he really had no choice in the matter, lest he be caught unawares.  
  
The sight of the scarred, capped-off nub made Hanzo stop and stare for a tense second. Truth be told, he didn’t remember much of the day his mother handed him a blade and ordered him to chop of Jesse’s arm. Most of that time had passed him in a haze. He knew now that he had been in shock from his own torture at the hands of the clan and too blindly loyal to see it as exactly that.  
  
When he realized he’d been staring at the other man for almost a minute in silence, Hanzo straightened his back and shoulders. “Good morning,” he offered, sounding only slightly as frazzled as he felt.  
  
Jesse jerked and almost spilled his coffee. A scowl was quick to jump on his face, and for a moment Hanzo thought the man would either attack him or get up and leave. Instead, he stood his ground and resolutely started ignoring Hanzo, still scowling into his mug.  
  
Hanzo said nothing more as he went for his own mug. He grabbed the green and black one that was clearly Genji’s, unsure of whether or not Jesse would snap at him for attempting to accidentally use someone else’s. The last thing he needed on top of his current anxiety attack was an angry cowboy spitting venom in his face. Well, more venom than usual.  
  
He spilled some of the fresh coffee trying to pour it, and to his frustration could not locate anything to wipe it up. He was ten seconds away from using his own shirt when Jesse appeared behind him, a dish rag in his hand.  
  
“Stop makin’ a mess.” Jesse eyed his trembling hands. “You cold?”  
  
“I...no,” Hanzo said, accepting the rag. “I had a terrible dream and it has left me anxious. Hence why I am up at this ungodly hour.”  
  
“And what kinda dream could make the stoic, cold-hearted Hanzo Shimada anxious, I wonder?” Jesse mused nastily, still looming behind Hanzo as he wiped up the spill.  
  
“I’m sure you can guess,” Hanzo muttered.  
  
“Oh sure. Let’s see - maybe the day you killed your brother?” Jesse suggested. “Or maybe the time you cut my arm off. Or poisoned me. Or shot me in the knee and denied me proper care. You know I can’t walk without a brace half the time now? Thanks for that. Real helpful when I’m tryin’ to do missions.”  
  
Hanzo’s hands were shaking harder now. He dug his fingers into the towel, nearly ripping it in two. “The day I killed my brother,” he confirmed, voice hardly more than a rasp. “I will relive that moment until the day I die, even in my dreams.”  
  
Jesse leaned in close, his gaze narrowed and made of steel. “Good.”  
  
He left Hanzo standing there by the sink, still trembling.

* * *

“How goes it?”  
  
Hanzo glanced away from the lake to see his brother sitting down next to him. He had been enjoying the breezy, moderate temperature and his solitude, but Genji’s company was always welcomed these days.   
  
Hanzo opened and closed his mouth several times. “Well, all things considered,” he settled on. “Most of the other agents are ignoring me.”  
  
Genji tilted his head, humming. “They aren’t ignoring you. You’re just not coming out of your room,” he pointed out. “At least, not until most of the others are asleep. They do not have the chance to be kind or crude to you - but I suppose that is your plan.”  
  
Hanzo ducked his head, flushing. “You are not wrong,” he admitted under his breath.   
  
“I’m never wrong,” Genji said, showing a glimpse of the cocky brat he used to be. “What are you afraid of?”  
  
“I’m not afraid,” Hanzo spat, sending him a scalding look. “I deserve every bit of hatred they might show me. It is just…” He waved his hands at the horizon, frowning. “It is all so new to me, having teammates around at all hours of the day after being on my own for so long. It is overwhelming at times.”  
  
At that, Genji nodded in understanding. “Have you been assigned any missions yet?”  
  
“Just the one to New Orleans two days ago.”  
  
“Who did you go with?”  
  
“Morrison and Song. I did not mind them so much. Morrison had been focused on the mission and Song reminds me of you.”  
  
Genji chuckled. “Does she now? Is it the love of video games or the attitude?”  
  
“Both,” Hanzo said, smiling a little at the horizon. There were two ships out in the distance chugging along the sun-warmed surface of the lake. “That is not to say she is not disciplined. She and Morrison bonded over their shared military experience, though it took him half the trip to warm up to her.”  
  
Genji hummed. “Jack has always had a small stick up his ass,” he commented lightly, earning a grunt out of his older brother. “Especially now in his old age. He tries to be crotchety, but I think Hana has grown on him. Lucio as well.”  
  
“There are so many young agents here,” Hanzo murmured. It made him a little uncomfortable knowing that they were putting their lives on the line every day - for a good cause, granted, but they were still just kids in his older eyes. He wished that Overwatch wasn’t necessary, but the world still needed heroes, and the next generation was here to help.   
  
“Jesse was seventeen when he was recruited,” Genji pointed out. “Overwatch is no stranger to young recruits.”  
  
Hanzo looked down at the mention of the man’s name. “He still does not want me here,” he mumbled.  
  
“Of course he doesn’t.” Genji tilted his head at him, expression hidden behind his mask. “Has he reaffirmed this for you?”  
  
“One night last week, I came upon him in the kitchen. I had woken from a nightmare of...of the day I…” He trailed off, clearing his throat. Genji said nothing, indicating he knew exactly what day he was talking about. “He is glad I am tormented by it. I cannot blame him.”  
  
Genji hummed, the noise low and metallic. “And this upsets you.”  
  
“Of course it does!” Hanzo spat, sending his brother a scowl. “You blather on about how I should forgive myself and move on in this new chapter of my life, but how can I when that is weighing me down so heavily?”  
  
“Forgiving you is his decision to make, as it was mine. You cannot force it. If it does happen, it must be natural, with little interference on your part.” He hesitated only a second before admitting, “My master taught me that when I confided in him that I was trying to force myself to forgive you for your deeds in order to move on.”  
  
Hanzo flinched and turned away, feeling himself go pale. He swallowed hard, gaze on the concrete beneath his folded legs. “How did you,” he began shakily, “come to stop hating me so?”  
  
“I never hated you, Hanzo. Hated what you did to me, yes, but I found that I could not truly blame you for it. As I found peace in my soul, things became clearer to me - like the fact that we had both been manipulated from birth by the elders and our parents, but you especially. What happened to us - I only feel contempt towards them now.”  
  
Hanzo was trembling again. “And now they are gone.”  
  
“Yes,” Genji agreed. “And with the clan’s demise begins a new chapter in our lives. Though admittedly, yours is off to a much rockier start. I am curious, brother - do you only want Jesse’s forgiveness so that you may move on in your own life? Or do you truly wish for him to find peace above your own needs?”  
  
“I…” Hanzo hesitated, realizing now that his desire was not as pure as he thought it to be. “Both, I suppose.”  
  
“That is fair,” Genji assured him, reaching up. “There is no shame in wanting both, provided they are not being forced from you or Jesse.”  
  
Hanzo glanced over at him. Genji had removed his mask, his hair waving in the burst of wind coming from the lake. He had dyed it green again, but Hanzo barely noticed, too stunned at the sight of his brother’s face. It was not the first time he’d seen it, but now there was no darkness of night to obscure the slashes and scars across his face, no way to confuse his lower metal jaw with shadow. Hanzo was seeing for the first time what he had truly done to his brother, and it turned his heart to ice.   
  
He jerked to his feet and made for his room inside the base, deaf to his brother’s confused cries. By the time he locked himself behind his door and reached for the sake, his hands were a shaking mess, his breaths coming in frantic puffs. He was having yet another panic attack, and though he knew several techniques to calm himself, he still settled with the most familiar: drinking.  
  
He chugged the contents of his gourd, then reached for the actual half-empty bottle he kept stashed next to his bed. All too soon the alcohol got to work on him, quickened by his empty stomach.   
  
But it wasn’t enough, he realized, cursing. He could still see, could still formulate his dark thoughts reasonably well. It wasn’t enough.  
  
He moved towards the mess hall then, hoping that it was still too early for anyone to be in there for dinner yet. He wasn’t sure if the place even had any booze, but he wasn’t about to sit around wondering. This was an emergency.  
  
As his awful luck would have it, he ran into Jesse at the end of the hall, a datapad in one hand and an apple in the other. He was dressed down to some jeans and a plaid button-up shirt pulled too tight around his shoulders and middle. The man froze when he noticed him coming.  
  
Hanzo did much the same and threw up his hands in surrender. “Please - do not - I am drunk.”  
  
Jesse tilted his head, frowning. “Why? It ain’t that late yet.”  
  
“I...I saw…” Hanzo squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would somehow ward off the image burned into his brain. “Do you know if there is any more alcohol on base? I have run out.”  
  
“Why the hell would I help you get more drunk at three-thirty in the afternoon?” Jesse scowled at him in disgust. “Don’t you have somethin’ to do? If not I can suggest some shit. The bathroom near the mess hall needs a serious scrubbin’.”  
  
“It’s your turn to scrub the bathrooms, Mister Pot-Kettle,” came Reyes’ angry bark from behind him. The Strike Commander marched up to both of them and gave them a once-over, frowning deeply. “Shit should’ve been done a week ago. I should haul your ass down there right now with a mop.”  
  
“I only just got back from Rome!” Jesse argued.   
  
“Well maybe if you stopped procrastinating on your cleaning duties, I wouldn’t have to be up your ass about it the second you step off the goddamned airbus.” Reyes plucked the half-eaten apple out of his agent’s hand and took a bite out of it, deaf to the sputtering noises Jesse was making. “Don’t gimme that. You better have those bathrooms clean enough to eat off of by tomorrow night or you’ll have hell to pay. And you - Shimada.”  
  
Hanzo straightened up, eyes wide. “Commander?”  
  
“You finish filing your report for your last mission? Good, come walk with me. Remember what I said, McCree.”  
  
“Up yours,” Jesse groused, already storming down the hall in the opposite direction.  
  
Hanzo stumbled after the commander, trying not to sway too badly. The shock of having both Jesse and Reyes confronting him was pretty damn sobering, unfortunately.   
  
“I read your report from the New Orleans stint,” Reyes offered after they’d gotten a decent ways down the hall. “For someone who’s never written one before, you did a good job. Glad the mission went well.”  
  
“I...yes,” Hanzo muttered, gaze plastered to the floor. “Thank you.”  
  
He could feel Reyes’ gaze on him as he continued. “Morrison had nothing but good things to say about you and your ability out in the field. Even Hana had to agree that you’re a decent marksman.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“How do you feel about it?”  
  
“About what?”  
  
“About what they’ve been saying about you. That you’re a good shot.”  
  
Hanzo huffed. “I’m an excellent shot,” he uttered, and beside him Reyes tilted his head back and laughed. Encouraged, Hanzo continued. “Morrison and Song are equally good. Song and her MEKA are a force to be reckoned with.”  
  
“We’re glad to have her on board.” Reyes stopped walking and sent him a square look. “And you, despite what you might think. We’ve been needing another sniper for a long time.”  
  
Hanzo nodded, unsure of what to say. Praise was foreign to him - especially coming from the man who was more or less the father figure of someone Hanzo had hurt terribly in the past. Frankly, he wasn’t sure why Reyes was bothering to speak to him at all, never mind practically come to his rescue. Pity must have been a major factor.  
  
“Even so,” Reyes continued, “you know you don’t have to stay with us if you don’t want to, right? I know things aren’t as comfortable as they could be for you around here.”  
  
Understatement, Hanzo mused. “I appreciate your concern,” he said quietly. But there was no way he could leave. Genji had asked him to come join the organization, and until Genji asked him to go, he was in it for the long haul.   
  
Reyes clapped him on the back. “Don’t let McCree’s sour attitude get you too down,” he offered. “He only gets this shitty towards someone if he’s afraid of them. Like those small dogs that bark at strangers but never do much more than that.”  
  
That had Hanzo picking his head up in surprise. “I frighten him?”  
  
“Well, more like the memories your presence dredges up.” Reyes just shrugged. “You’re like a walking billboard for all the traumas he’d been through.”  
  
Hanzo flinched, downcast again. “Do you think,” he began softly, “there might come a time when he finds it in his heart to forgive me?”  
  
“Hell if I know. Kid’s a stubborn prick most days, but he’s not inherently mean. Sooner or later, he’ll get tired of holding this grudge.”  
  
Hopefully sooner rather than later - if not for Hanzo’s sake, then for the team. Conflict in the ranks was a surefire way to destroy Overwatch from the inside out. It’s how the Shimada Empire crumbled, anyway.  
  
Reyes moved to leave, then paused and sent him a cocked brow. “Why _are_ you drinking at three-thirty in the afternoon, Shimada?”  
  
Hanzo wilted, tried to shrug, wound up just staring at the floor between them. He drank because he was nervous, because he was tired of thinking, because he hated himself and partially hoped one day he’d drink himself so deeply into a pit that he’d never come out of it.   
  
“I guess no one told you, but there’s no alcohol allowed on base. We’ve all got our secret stashes,” Reyes admitted, smirking, “but walking around intoxicated is a big no-no. And - look, you’re not the only one who does it to cope. I get it. But you’re gonna have to find another outlet, or at least stick to doing it in private. Capiche?”  
  
Hanzo nodded, feeling his face burn with shame. He shouldn’t need an outlet. He should be stronger than this. “Understood.”  
  
Reyes bid him goodbye, and Hanzo made for the kitchen, searching for some tea to clear the cottony taste out of his mouth. He didn’t expect to run into Hana and Lucio, who were both chattering up a storm in front of the sink. Hanzo had been content to ignore them and get out of there as fast as possible when Lucio snagged his arm.  
  
“Hanzo,” he began solemnly, and for a split second Hanzo was afraid he’d done something wrong yet again. “Hanzo, my buddy, my good archer friend, can you please agree with me on the fact that House, Trance, and EDM are all very different genres of music? Hana seems to think they’re all the same. Shameful!” he tacked on, sending the young lady a scowl while she openly rolled her eyes at him.  
  
Hanzo blinked at the duo. “I’m afraid I can’t help,” he muttered, only to catch a quick view of the game Hana was currently heavily invested in on her handheld device. “Is that 16-bit Hero?”  
  
Her head shot up, eyes wide, and that was how Hanzo found himself wedged between the two young heroes on an old couch in the rec room with the old game from his childhood being projected on the far wall. The controller felt too small in his hands, too foreign compared to the controller he remembered using as a kid, but he still managed to keep the duo on their toes.  
  
“Told you he was cool,” Hana said to Lucio at one point. The DJ threw his hands up in easy defeat, and Hanzo found himself feeling, for once, content.


	12. Chapter 12

“Hell no,” Jesse said. “Hell fuckin’ no.”

Winston sighed and adjusted his glasses. “You and Hanzo are the only agents available at the moment,” he explained. He shifted nervously, gaze snapping between the two men, who were currently standing with a good ten feet between each other. “Believe me, if I could assign this to anyone else, I would. But time is of the essence and no one else is available.”

Jesse chewed on the inside of his cheek and ached for a cigar. Sometimes he really, really missed the traveling loner lifestyle.

“What is the mission?” Hanzo asked quietly.

“Infiltration,” Winston replied, growing slightly less tense. “We got an anonymous tip about some serious intel being kept in a small Talon base located in Dorado, Mexico. Normally we would only send one agent, but after what happened to Amelie…” He cleared his throat. “We don’t want to risk it again.”

Jesse shut his eyes for a second, recalling the day everything went to shit. Overwatch has had its fair share of ups and downs, of failed missions and close calls. Not everyone came back alive or in one piece all the time either. But what happened to Amelie - it was a hard blow to the organization, to those closest to the sniper and her now deceased husband. Jesse hadn’t really known either of them personally, but he understood all too well that what had happened to her at the hands of Talon could have happened to him once upon a time if the Shimada clan had actually been in cohorts with the terrorist organization.

“You wanna pair me up with the prick who almost did the same bullshit to me?” he gritted out, glowering at the scientist. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hanzo jerk around to stare at him.

“A-as I said,” Winston stuttered, “we are limited on agents. You are free to decline, of course, but...”

Jesse snorted and turned his head to glower at the wall. “When?”

“The hypertrain to the airport will depart at zero-nine-hundred tomorrow morning, and your flight to Dorado is at noon,” Winston said. He hesitated, then added quickly, “I suggest you two get reacquainted with your combat styles before then.”

“I’m already well acquainted, thanks,” Jesse snapped, but grabbed the datapad out of Winston’s grasp and stormed out anyway.

He heard Hanzo thank Winston, then hurry to catch up with him. “Do you truly think I - ”

“Don’t,” Jesse snarled, whirling around to jab a threatening finger at the other man, “talk to me.”

Hanzo frowned. “We did not brainwash you,” he said firmly before Jesse could spit out another vicious demand for silence. “I will be in the training gallery after dinner if you wish to take Winston’s suggestion to heart.”

With that, he was gone, disappearing down the hall. Jesse watched him go, vibrating with a mixture of anger and relief. Another part of him still didn’t believe the other man, too paranoid and pissed off. It was probably the wiser part of him, Jesse conceded as he made for his own room.

He tried to go over the mission dossier, but he was still too on edge to lie there on his unmade bed browsing through it. He brought up his contacts list and scrolled until he got to Genji. He knew the man was on a mission of his own, but he still couldn’t resist the urge to call him.

Thankfully it appeared that those on said mission were having some down time. Genji picked up on the third ring with a cheerful, “Greetings, Jesse.”

“Howdy. Any chance you’ll be comin’ home soon?”

“Not for another four days.” Genji’s tone changed to a more serious one. “Why? Is everything all right?”

“Your dumb brother and I got paired up on a mission.”

“Oh? You have called to tell me the good news, then!”

“What? No!” Jesse groaned, throwing his arm over his face. “Either I’m gonna kill him in a fit of rage or he’s gonna wind up puttin’ another arrow through my goddamned knee. No good’s gonna come outta this.”

Genji tsked, clicking his tongue. “You don’t know that. This could be an opportunity - the first of many stepping stones across the turbulent river separating the two of you.”

Jesse stared at the air in front of his face. “Don’t - don’t throw that flowery mystic shit at me. My point is, to do this kinda work, you gotta be able to trust each other. I feel a lotta things for Hanzo, but trust is definitely not one of ‘em.”

“Not yet,” Genji said, sounding entirely too smug. “This mission will help you with it, I’m sure.”

“If you switch with me, I promise to eat you out whenever you want.”

Genji burst out laughing. “Jesse!”

“‘Til my jaw falls off.”

“What good would that do either of us?”

“ _Please_ , Genji?” he whined, thrashing on his bed like a child throwing a tantrum. “Please, please please?”

“As much as I love hearing you beg, I’m afraid this is out of my hands,” Genji said, growing sober. “I know it will be difficult, but I meant what I said. This could be the start of a journey of healing for both of you.”

“And if I don’t wanna heal?” Jesse blurted, more out of stubbornness than any real desire for it.

Thankfully Genji saw right through him. “You do. So does Hanzo. Perhaps you can help each other.” Someone started talking to Genji in the background, making him pause. “I must go now, Jesse. Please take care of yourself - and my brother while you are away.”

“Now you’re askin’ for too much,” Jesse told the dialtone.

* * *

The mess hall was empty with everyone out on missions. The only other person puttering about in search of food was Gabriel, who was still recovering from a nasty gunshot to his side he got while on his last mission. Jesse knew he should be in bed even with Angela’s nanotechnology working their magic fingers on him, but wasn’t about to nag him about it.

Jesse took his own tray of slop and joined his old mentor at the table, uttering a quiet greeting that Gabriel returned. Jesse took a moment to eye up the man’s graying hair, the new scars dotting his face, and the fact that he currently had Jack’s old SEP hoodie draped around his broad shoulders. Fella looked like hell, he found himself thinking.

“Spit it out,” Gabriel said eventually without looking at him. He had a datapad in his free hand, no doubt the details of one of their many completed missions. “Unless you’re just here to oggle my bare chest.”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “I’m bein’ sent out on an infiltration mission,” he told him.

Gabriel cocked a brow and finally set the datapad down. “Where at?”

“Mexico. There’s a Talon base there that’s supposedly storing some intel we could use to maybe get the upper hand on them.”

Gabriel hummed, pausing to stuff a spoonful of mashed potatoes in his mouth. “We could stand to win one,” he said. “Been too long since we had a skirmish that wasn’t a stalemate.”

Jesse grunted in agreement. “Do you think it’s a good idea sendin’ me on somethin’ that requires sneakin’ and shit?”

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t we send you?”

Jesse sent his old mentor a flat look. “The last infiltration mission I went on didn’t go so well,” he muttered, tapping his metal fingers on the table.

Gabriel lowered his fork. “Jess, that was over fifteen years ago,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, and I haven’t been on that kind of mission since then. For a reason.”

“Well, maybe now’s the time to try again.”

Jesse sighed angrily, scowling down at his mostly untouched plate. “I’m not confident enough,” he spat. “Plus I ain’t exactly in the best shape to be sneakin’ around. I can’t kneel for more than two minutes let alone crawl my ass through vents.”

Gabriel sent him an unimpressed look. “If you really think that’s the kinda shit we do on covert-op infiltration missions, I can see why nobody’s asked you to go on one since Overwatch was recalled.”

Jesse flicked some potatoes at him, nailing him in the neck. “I can’t do this,” he stressed. “I don’t have the know-how.”

“There are simulations you can try out,” Gabriel told him, sneering as he wiped the potatoes off. He flicked the mushy chunks back at him, splattering his shirt with it. “I’m assuming you’re also going to have someone else coming with you, right? They can pick up any slack you might have.”

At that, Jesse let out a snort. “Oh, sure, I’ll feel _real_ safe with Hanzo frickin’ Shimada watchin’ my six,” he groused.

Gabriel nearly choked on his water. “They paired you up with him? Christ, we really must be desperate.” He rubbed his hand across his chin, growing thoughtful. “So you’re scared of him, is that it? Is that why you’re so against this?”

Jesse spluttered, feeling heat rising to his neck and ears. “I - no, I ain’t _scared_ , I’m…! I just don’t wanna work with the yellow-bellied piece of shit who chopped my fuckin’ arm off and killed his brother! Who knows when he’s gonna snap and do the same to me?”

“You’re scared.”

“Fuck off. Fuck you.”

“I mean, I don’t blame you,” Gabriel went on, shoveling more food in his mouth. “Frankly I’m kinda nervous about the arrangement now myself. But the kid’s been here for a month and a half and hasn’t shown any signs of hostility towards us. Hell, I don’t think he’s even come near you since he first showed up.”

That much was true. Hanzo had made himself scarce around Jesse as much as humanly possible since his arrival. Still, his presence on base was enough to make Jesse nervous. Having him watching his back on a mission - well, “anxious” wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how that made Jesse feel.

“I’ll trade with you if you want,” Gabriel offered when Jesse made no move to say anything.

“You’re still recoverin’.”

“I’ll be good as new by morning.”

As true as that was, Gabriel hadn’t had a decent break in between missions in weeks now, and it was starting to show on his features. Super soldier or not, the guy still needed rest.

“I’ll do it,” Jesse muttered, taking his hat off to push his hair out of his eyes. “If this prick’s gonna be around for a while, I gotta start gettin’ used to him, I guess.”

“Makes sense.” Gabriel’s gaze was burning holes through Jesse’s now, the rest of his expression blank. “There’s something I never told you about the day all that shit went down. When I went back to the castle to go get Genji, I found Hanzo there with him.”

Jesse’s eyes widened. “Why the fuck didn’t you kill him?”

Gabriel took another bite of his meal and chewed and swallowed before answering. “He was in shock,” he explained quietly. “Just...sitting there, staring at what he’d done, crying like a goddamned baby. Honestly? I looked at him and I saw you the day I picked you up outta Deadlock. Two kids in over their heads, too young to be dealin’ with the kind of shit life was throwing at you.”

Jesse cursed and yanked his hat down, trembling with fury. It was bad enough Gabriel let Hanzo into Overwatch. Knowing that he had the opportunity to end the bastard right after he'd put Jesse through so much bullshit was enough to make tears of red hot fury jump into his eyes. “You should’ve fuckin’ killed him,” he snarled. “I can’t believe - after what he did to me, you really let him go? What the _fuck_ , Gabe?”

The strike commander just shrugged, averting his gaze a little. “He wanted me to kill him,” he said. “I could see it in his eyes. Hell, he probably would have begged me to do it if he hadn’t been in so much shock he couldn’t speak. I guess in my mind, making him live with what he’d done was a punishment more fitting than death.”

That much was true, Jesse reasoned, trying to swallow his rage. Still - “Now he’s here,” he spat, “tryin’ to get his redemption or whatever.”

“You got yours by joining Overwatch way back when, didn’t you?” Gabriel set down his fork and sat back, fixing the younger man with a steely look. “Look, enough about him. I’m not gonna force you to do anything. If you really don’t want to go on this mission, we’ll find someone to replace you - or Hanzo, even. Just let me know before morning.”

Jesse groaned and laid his head down on the sticky table. He didn’t want to go on the mission. He was sick of people babying him. He was so goddamned sick of feeling so goddamned pathetic all the goddamned time. But most of all, he was sick of not knowing what he wanted.

“I’ll go,” he said again. “Just - I dunno. Stay close to your comm.”

Gabriel cracked a half-smirk. “There’s a Watchpoint in Galveston,” he said. “I’ll be there with my comm glued to my ear.”

* * *

Hanzo truly did not expect Jesse to show up at the training arena that evening. He was practicing his aim when he heard the doors swish open; he could tell without looking behind him that it was the cowboy. Only one person around Zurich wore spurs.

“I do hope you won’t be wearing those when we are attempting to sneak through the base,” he said without really thinking.

Jesse froze by one of the tables before dumping some of his gear down, loud and distracting, much like the rest of him. “I’ll do what I damn well please,” he snapped. Still angry, it seemed, though Hanzo supposed he had every right to be.

Hanzo said nothing more as he continued firing his arrows with pinpoint accuracy. He truly didn’t feel the need to practice his archery; he doubted he would be utilizing it much while on the mission strictly labeled as ‘get in, get the intel, and get the hell out.’ If anything, he would have preferred to work on his hand-to-hand combat, but with noone other than Jesse around to spar with him, he was out of luck.

Eventually Jesse came up to join him a few booths down, picking off the training bots with accuracy as deadly as Hanzo’s own. Hanzo watched out of the corner of his eye, noting the fact that Jesse now used his right hand to shoot instead of his left metallic one. It made sense, he thought glumly, feeling guilt creeping in yet again. One had to be able to feel the trigger in order to pull it.

Hanzo sighed and lowered his bow. “I have no right to ask this of you,” he began quietly, “but for the sake of the mission, can we set aside our differences and try to act as a team?”

Jesse sneered at him. “That’s funny - you tryin’ to lecture me on teamwork. How long have you been on your own actin’ like some sort of lone ranger assassin, huh?”

Hanzo kept his gaze low. “Too long,” he admitted. “You are right, I don’t know much when it comes to relying on another for help. I’m still learning. Perhaps you can show me a thing or two in that regard so that this mission can go as smoothly as possible? You have been doing this far longer than I and I trust your judgement.”

Jesse snorted. “Tryin’ to butter me up, huh?”

“Is it working?”

Another snort, this one accompanied by Jesse turning his head - perhaps to hide a smirk or a smile, the desperate part of Hanzo thought. “Teamwork’s easy. You watch my back and I’ll watch yours.” He hesitated, rubbing his beard. “Fact of the matter is, I ain’t got much experience with infiltration,” he admitted. “The last covert-ops mission I was on didn’t go so well.”

He sent Hanzo a pointed, icy look before firing off another couple rounds into a handful of training bots, bringing their sparking, whining corpses to the ground until their auto-repair systems kicked in and raised them from the grave.

“Well,” Hanzo began quietly, lifting his bow to join in, “I spent much of my time after the clan’s demise either on the run or picking off stragglers. I can offer you some pointers in blending in and sneaking around if you like.”

“I don’t - ” Jesse cut himself off with a heavy exhale. He took a moment to gather himself, then uttered out a, “I’d appreciate it,” through gritted teeth.

“Very well,” Hanzo said, firing off another arrow. He chanced a glance at the digital clock on the wall - still early. “The dossier contained a blueprint layout of the base that I’ve already downloaded it into Athena’s database. We could set up a simulation. Will that do?”

Jesse nodded, already taking off his hat and serape. The spurs stayed.

* * *

The train ride to the airport was less than eventful, as was the ensuing flight to Dorado, if only because Jesse had slept through most of it. He and Hanzo had been up way too late last night going through that stupid simulation over and over again, trying to work out a path that would allow them to reach the intel as quickly and as quietly as possible. Unfortunately, without knowing the exact patrol paths the guards took, they were down to essentially winging it.

“The facility used to be a slaughter house before it was abandoned,” Hanzo had pointed out during their third runthrough of the simulation. “It's not that large. If push comes to shove, I don’t doubt we can fight our way through it.”

Well, that was a plan Jesse could get behind, but only if necessary. It was labeled a stealth mission for a reason, after all. As eager as he was to get physical, he also wanted to prove to Gabriel and the others that he could in fact pull off these kinds of stints.

The plane landed, and Hanzo had to not-so-subtly nudge Jesse awake as he moved down the aisle past his seat. They were both in disguise to avoid any and all media, so no one batted an eye at the two of them as they made their way out of the airport and into a cab. Their hotel was right by the sea, small and a little run-down in places but warm and homey. The little old lady behind the counter in the lobby showed them to their room, then left so they could get situated.

“Cozy,” Jesse muttered, frowning at the cramped space. “I think I can cram one asscheek onto that bed. Why didn’t Winston splurge on one of the five-stars in the other side of town? And separate rooms?”

“Those are typically reserved for businessmen who are interested in the ziggurats,” Hanzo informed him. “Which we are not. We are just...two friends on vacation, enjoying the sights of one of Mexico’s loveliest towns.”

Jesse sent him a flat look. “Is that what the dossier says?”

“No,” Hanzo said, resolutely not looking at Jesse as he set about stashing his small suitcase on the wooden chair next to his bed. “But if someone asks what we foreigners are doing here, it’s good to have a story ready.”

Jesse hummed in reluctant agreement. He moved to the window next to his bed and pulled the curtains open, revealing a beautiful view of the ocean in the distance, unobscured. Sailboats dotted the blue waters of the harbor, and in the distance Jesse could hear their bells clanging in the breeze. “Well, shoot, I think this view makes up for our shitty living arrangement.”

“Indeed.”

Jesse took a deep whiff of the crisp sea air for a moment, then turned back to Hanzo, only to find the man hastily glancing away from him. “We should spend some time scoping out the town,” the archer blurted, sounding pissed off.

“Sounds good,” Jesse said. “I’m gonna go check out that bakery down the street.”

Hanzo huffed, but grabbed his sunglasses and wallet, moving to join him at the door.

“Um, I don’t think I invited you,” Jesse said, jabbing the other man hard in the shoulder. “We may be on this mission together, but I still hate your goddamn guts, Shimada, don’t you forget it.”

Hanzo sent him a very unamused look from over the rim of his sunglasses. “The whole point of us being paired together is so that we don’t have a repeat of what happened with Mrs. Lacroix,” he pointed out, only a little harshly. “I am perfectly aware that you hate me, McCree. But I thought we agreed for the sake of the mission - ”

“Do not lecture me,” Jesse snapped, jabbing a finger in his face. “I said I’ll deal with you when we head out tonight. Goin’ to the bakery ain’t a part of the mission, so step off.”

“Am I not allowed to get bread as well?” Hanzo was pouting now, a scowl on his stupid handsome mug. “You are being - ”

Jesse seized him by his throat, cutting his words short with a strangled noise. Though his eyes widened for a split second, Hanzo’s composure returned.

The same could not be said for Jesse; he stared him dead in the face, torn between increasing his grip and backing off. The rational part of his mind knew that he’d crossed a major line, but the fury in him had taken over, finally snapping and surging forth, consuming him like a ship in a storm. He could feel Hanzo’s pulse racing, could feel him swallowing hard against his palm. The urge to increase his grip was damn near impossible to ignore.

“Bein’ what?” his mouth growled.

Hanzo didn’t blink. “Childish.”

Jesse released him, shoving him back by his throat. It was embarrassing how suddenly he was able to just lose his temper around Hanzo; that was the only thing keeping Jesse from unleashing verbal and maybe even some more physical hell on the archer. He wasn’t an angry person, goddammit. Hanzo brought out the worst in him just by being present.

“We have a job to do,” Hanzo rasped, rubbing his throat. He was staring out the window now, expression tight. “Scoping out the town is part of it.”

Jesse took a few deep, even breaths. “We’ll check out the streets,” he agreed. He sounded like he’d been the one in a chokehold. “And tonight, we’ll gear up for a stakeout.”

* * *

Thankfully, Dorado was goddamned gorgeous as far as Jesse was concerned and did wonders to dampen the burning anger inside him. The temperature was just right - warm but with a nice breeze to keep the sweat away. There were pinatas, string lights, and other bright, colorful decorations hanging around the main square where people, mostly locals, were gathered to sell the last of their goods.

“Is there a holiday?” Hanzo asked, observing the decorations.

Jesse wracked his brain, then realized: “Festival de la Luz.”

“Can’t say I’ve heard of it.”

“A couple years ago, there was a massive terrorist attack near here,” Jesse explained as they started slowly making their way down the street. “Overwatch wasn’t around to prevent a horde of Talon-controlled omnics from destroyin’ most of the country’s power grid. It took a while, but they were able to recover thanks to those fusion plants.”

He nodded towards the big ziggurats lining the hills. Eyesores, but they delivered clean energy to the people of Mexico. Theoretically. Overwatch had its doubts - Jack specifically, who was borderline obsessed with finding out what the hell LumériCo was really up to - but that was a mission for another day.

“It is a good thing to celebrate,” Hanzo said, nodding. “Much of the world fell into chaos without Overwatch around, didn’t it?”

“Oh yeah,” Jesse said, snorting at the sour memory. “Took the stupid United Nations way too long to recall everyone. We could’ve prevented a lot of this, I’m sure.”

Though he had long stopped thinking about it that way, he still heard the nasty voice in his head, the one he hadn’t been able to shake even all these years later, the one that whispered that it was his fault Overwatch had gotten disbanded in the first place. He hated that goddamned voice almost as much as he hated Hanzo.

They continued through the town center, pausing to oggle at homemade wares and food stuffs. There was a band playing somewhere in the distance, just audible over the cheery conversations and banter between the locals milling around, adding to the atmosphere. For a moment, Jesse forgot he was there on a mission. If he shut his eyes and concentrated on the ambient sounds of the celebration, he could almost pretend he was on leave.

Too bad his current company was more questionable than it was welcomed.

Said company was currently peering down at a collection of Maria dolls stacked carefully in a wicker basket in front of a stall. “Are these handmade?” Hanzo asked him as he picked up one of the dolls. She wore a happy little smile on her fabric face, hidden only slightly by her thin black hair, which was braided with colorful ribbons strewn throughout.

“The more authentic ones are, yeah,” Jesse said. “Rag dolls have a pretty lengthy history here, but they’ve gotten really popular with tourists so nowadays they’re just mass-produced and shipped to the States.”

The woman behind the stall noticed Hanzo had one of the dolls in his hand and started chattering excitedly, gesturing to the dolls in an attempt to make a sale. Hanzo blinked, startled and awkwardly fumbling for words, until Jesse came to his rescue and gently told the woman that his friend was just looking.

“Actually,” Hanzo blurted quickly as the tips of his ears turned pink, “can you ask how much? Hana made me promise to get her something since she’s never been to Mexico.”

Jesse snorted, but told him and watched him pay for the doll. He knew Hanzo had gotten close with a few of the younger members of Overwatch - the ones who hadn’t witnessed his brutality back in the day. They knew about it, of course, but with Genji there to assure them it was all in the past, they’d been quick to forgive and welcome the man they’d come to dub “Uncle Walkthrough” into their circle.

It was good he wasn’t a total outcast, a tiny part of Jesse’s mind admitted. But mostly, he was kinda jealous.

They moved on, only to quickly get distracted again by another stall, this one stuffed full of sweets and run by a mother and her daughter. Hanzo asked Jesse to decide on a sweet treat for him, and after some chit-chatting with the grateful young mother, Jesse handed Hanzo a bread roll covered in cookie crust.

“What is this?” Hanzo asked in between bites. They were heading for the fountain now, dodging excited children that were darting around the marketplace. A band was playing an upbeat tune near a large, decorated gate; Jesse couldn’t help but tap his foot in time with the beat.

“Concha,” Jesse said, already halfway done his. “With vanilla flavor. Sometimes they’re filled with cream, but I ain’t a fan of those.”

Hanzo hummed, taking another bite. “I am glad you decided to take this job,” he said. Before Jesse could have a coronary over such a random statement, Hanzo continued, “You know a lot about Mexican culture.”

Jesse felt himself relax a little. “I know some. Grew up near the border, learned a lot of shit from the locals there. Hell, who knows, I might have some Mexican blood in me,” he said, shrugging. “I dunno if my parents ever told me what I was. Definitely Hispanic, probably some white, maybe even some Native American. Hell, my Ma used to tell me I was the spawn of the devil, so maybe I got that goin’ for me too.”

That got a low chuckle out of Hanzo. “What a cruel thing to tell a child.”

“Eh.” Jesse shrugged and flicked the rim of his hat, offering the man a deliberate wink from his right eye. “I dunno. Sure would explain a few things, wouldn’t it?”

Hanzo hummed, his gaze drifting towards one of the towering ziggurats looming over the town. “Unfortunately my travels never brought me this way,” he admitted. Then, almost shyly, he asked, “Will you tell me more about this culture?”

Jesse snorted, but didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “Buy me some bread from that bakery and I’ll consider it.”

Hanzo ducked his head, seemingly pleased that he hadn’t been outright rejected. “Very well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one ships mchanzo friendship more than Genji tbh.


	13. Chapter 13

That night, they prepared to roll out. Their supplies had been mailed to the town’s small post office and then delivered to the hotel the day prior in unmarked boxes. Inside they found their stealth suits and weapons, plus some medical supplies and a special disc drive that they’d use to steal whatever intel they could hack out of the base’s computer system.   
  
Jesse also found a syringe filled with a strange blue liquid. Ana left him a brief note with it, claiming that the injection was a concoction of her and Angela’s combined efforts called a ‘nanoboost’ and he should only use it if his knee starts acting up at an inopportune time.  
  
“Does she say what it does?” Hanzo asked, eyeing the drug wearily.  
  
“No,” Jesse said after dumping out the rest of the box’s sparse contents in search of more information. Dammit, Ana. “So I guess we’d better hope I don’t have to use it.”   
  
Jesse finished gearing up first and headed out onto the balcony for one last smoke before he had to slip into complete incognito mode. It was a new moon, the sky gathering gray clouds. Should be an easy sneak in, grab the goods, and sneak out mission.  
  
Or so he was desperately hoping. Already his stomach was in knots, his mind plagued with all the things that had gone wrong during his last stint almost twenty years ago. Granted, this time he was trying to blend in with the shadows, not snot-nosed rich folk who had ties to what . He hoped it would make all the difference.  
  
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He’d have to ditch it before heading out, but for now he answered, pleased when Genji’s voice came through the tiny speaker. He could use a boost of confidence.  
  
“How goes it?” the youngest Shimada asked.  
  
Jesse let out a sigh, sending cigar smoke up into the crisp night air. Behind him in the bedroom, Hanzo sat on his bed making sure that his own gear was ready for action. In a few minutes, they would head out to infiltrate a Talon base.  
  
Theoretically. They’d done well working together for the simulations, but the real deal was going to be either very interesting or very aggravating.   
  
“Fine,” Jesse replied quietly. “Well, I mean, I tried to strangle Hanzo a few hours ago, but it’s been fine.”  
  
Genji clicked his tongue. “I suppose it was only a matter of time until one of you lashed out,” he said. “Am I going to have to tell Gabriel that you and Hanzo are squabbling? Dorado is only one airbus ride away from the Watchpoint in Galveston, you know. He could be there in an hour.”  
  
“No,” Jesse whined flatly, rolling his eyes. “Please don’t tell my dad I’ve been fighting.”  
  
Genji chuckled, but sobered quickly enough. “Will you be able to do your mission without attacking each other?”  
  
“‘Course. We’re professionals.”  
  
Genji uttered something in Japanese then that Jesse didn’t catch, but he knew it was rude and sarcastic and offered him a witty retort in Spanish as a taste of his own medicine. A few more sharp quips were exchanged before they bid each other adieu. Jesse headed back inside the hotel room to find Hanzo rising off his bed to meet him.  
  
“Ready?” he asked.  
  
Jesse sized the other man up. He was dressed in a black form-fitting stealth suit - the norm for covert-op infiltration missions - and the bow he had strapped to his back was not his usual Stormbow. It was smaller, more compact, as were his arrows, which he had bundled together in a quiver that hung snuggly against his rump. He’d traded his typical ribbon for a simple hair tie, and with the ability to pull up the fabric bunched around his neck, the only part of him that would be visible to the world once they rolled out would be his sharp eyes.  
  
He looked good in black.  
  
Jesse became consciously aware of his own attire then - essentially the same as Hanzo’s, save for the fact he also wore medical pouches on his belt alongside his flashbangs and the holster for his Peacekeeper. Technically he shouldn’t even be bringing it along, but he always felt safer with it by his side and that wasn’t about to change now, covert-ops be damned. He’d just have to try not to use it.  
  
Hanzo cocked a brow at him, clearly still waiting for an answer. Jesse averted his gaze, distinctly aware that he was turning pink around the ears under Hanzo’s scrutiny. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he drawled, reaching up to fumble with a hat he wasn’t wearing. “Feelin’ naked without my hat and my underwear’s bunchin’ up in this damn jumpsuit, but ready.”  
  
Hanzo’s sharp gaze softened as a smirk appeared on his lips. “Perhaps you should invest in a hat for these kinds of missions,” he suggested as he turned and made his way towards the balcony.  
  
“Maybe,” Jesse relented, trying hard not to stare at the man’s back as he moved away. “Any advice for the wedgies, then?”  
  
Turning his head to face him, Hanzo tapped a finger to his temple. “Your underwear can’t bunch up in your jumpsuit if you’re not wearing any,” he said.  
  
Jesse blinked at him, then once again found himself thankful for the quiver currently blocking his view of the man’s ass as he darted outside.

* * *

Jesse thankfully didn’t wear his spurs when they snuck out of the hotel that night. Despite the man’s hulking stature and heavy gait, he still managed to make his way down the backstreets of Dorado with hardly a sound and keep pace with Hanzo without breaking too much of a sweat.   
  
They took to the rooftops the closer they got to the warehouse. Hanzo scaled the walls easily, but Jesse took longer, having to resort to climbing up a fire escape as quietly as possible to join Hanzo up top. From there they continued on, skittering across the rooftops of the sleepy Mexican town under the cover of near darkness.   
  
This method of travel was all-too familiar to Hanzo, who had spent the last several years doing much the same simply as a means of getting around. Having someone else with him was new and not entirely unwelcome. At least Hanzo didn’t have to be concerned about constantly watching his back. Well, as much as he used to, anyway.   
  
Neither of them spoke the whole while, resorting to head and hand motions when needed. Hanzo was used to the silence on these sort of missions and was genuinely surprised that Jesse was being so quiet. He expected panting at the very least, maybe some pained grunts over his battered knee, which Hanzo knew he was favoring. A part of him almost wanted to tease the man about how much being silent must have been hurting him, but held back, knowing that now wasn’t the time. Jesse was so on edge Hanzo could taste it in the crisp midnight air.  
  
He knew he was responsible in part for his anxiety about going on these sorts of missions. He was responsible for a lot of pain the man had gone through - a fact that would weigh Hanzo down for the rest of his life.  
  
Eventually they came to perch on a rooftop within sight of their target. From their position, not only were they in shadow from a taller neighboring building, but also had a decent view of the only entrance the old slaughterhouse had to offer. There were three men loitering about masquerading as homeless folk or drunkards. Even without the help of his tactical binoculars, Hanzo knew they were armed.  
  
“Kinda fucked up, ain’t it?”  
  
Hanzo jerked a little, startled by the sudden question after what had been nearly half an hour of nothing but silence between him and his partner. “What?” he whispered, casting Jesse a wide-eyed glance.  
  
The cowman was staring at the warehouse, his expression carefully blank. “What happened between us when we met at that ball your dad threw in New York.”  
  
Hanzo regarded him for a long moment, too stunned to speak. He hadn’t anticipated this - at least not now, not while they were on a very important stealth mission. “What brought this on?” he muttered eventually, turning away as shame started clawing at his innards.  
  
“When I can’t talk, I tend to get caught up in thoughts.”  
  
“Sounds dangerous.”  
  
Jesse cracked a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. You said you knew I was an Overwatch agent from the start. If I’d been some dumpy old guy, would you’ve still slept with me?”  
  
“I - what?”  
  
Jesse ducked his head, catching his partner’s gaze with his own. “You ain’t deaf.”  
  
Hanzo was quiet for a moment, his dark eyes flicking to his lap. “Yes,” he muttered. “I would have done whatever I had to for the clan back then.”  
  
“Me too, I think,” Jesse admitted, turning back to the warehouse. “If you hadn’t come along, I dunno what I would’ve done to get up to the other floors. Kinda fucked up, huh?”  
  
“Yes,” Hanzo agreed softly. “We both just wanted to do right by our people.”  
  
Jesse hummed in affirmation and was quiet for another minute before asking, “Was I really that bad in bed?”  
  
Hanzo sputtered out a wheezy laugh that hurt his throat. “Are we really talking about this now?”  
  
Jesse just shrugged. “We could die tonight,” he pointed out.   
  
“And the one thing you want to clear up between us is whether or not I truly thought you were awful in bed?”  
  
“Well, when you put it that way,” Jesse muttered, cracking a brief toothy grin. “You can say yes. I promise you that I’m a changed man now. Very skilled in the wooin’ and doin’ department.”  
  
“Is that a statement or a proposition?” Hanzo asked before his brain could caution him not to.   
  
To his immense relief, Jesse’s grin merely widened. “Ask me again after this mission, darlin’,” he teased right back, tilting his imaginary hat at him. “And on the subject of clearin’ things up - you didn’t force me to do anythin’ back in the day.”  
  
Hanzo jerked with a tiny gasp, floored by the sudden change in conversation tone. He tried to look the cowboy in the eyes again, but the man was moving, shuffling towards the edge of the roof with his own pair of binoculars in hand. Right - they had work to do, Hanzo couldn’t…  
  
He took a deep, steadying breath, uttered a quiet thanks, then joined Jesse where he sat.   
  
“There’s a fella on the rooftop,” Jesse told him when he was closer. “Unless we plan on just stormin’ through the front gates, we gotta take him out before hittin’ the vent.”  
  
Hanzo hummed, peering at the guard in question through his binoculars. “I will take him out. Let’s get closer.”

* * *

Taking out the soldier on the roof was easy when your partner was trained in the ways of an assassin. Jesse watched as Hanzo snuck up behind the man, quiet as a mouse, and snapped his neck in one fluid motion. Poor bastard never even saw him coming.  
  
Jesse hopped the gap between rooftops and joined Hanzo, letting out a low, appreciative whistle. “Nice neck-snappin’ there, pardner.”  
  
“Thank you,” Hanzo replied, serious as ever. He was knelt down next to the grunt, rifling through his pockets and frowning when he found nothing of interest.   
  
Jesse, meanwhile, lifted his hand to his ear, activating the comm he had tucked inside. “Eastwood to Big Daddy, you read me? We’re about to drop in.”   
  
“Don’t call me that,” came Gabriel’s annoyed voice. The signal was weaker than Jesse would’ve liked, but that’s what happened when didn’t have any flybots on hand to help transmit the signal over thousands of miles.   
  
“Right, sorry,” Jesse said, grinning. “I forgot only Jack gets to call you daddy.”  
  
“Oh my god,” Gabriel groaned. “Radio me again when you’ve got the intel and need evac, you little shit. And for fuck’s sake, be careful. The warehouse might be small, but the info inside could be game changing - and Talon knows it.”  
  
Both Jesse and Hanzo uttered affirmations before turning their comms off. “In, out, no mess,” Jesse mumbled, earning another semi-skeptical grunt out of his partner. “Right. After you, amigo.”  
  
“Gracias,” Hanzo said, rolling his eyes as he pried the cover off the air vent and slipped inside.   
  
Just as the simulation suggested, they landed in a dark, deserted room that looked like it had been an office at some point for whoever last owned the building. A large, lone table was moved off to the side, and a few sparse chairs and pens were the only signs of a life that had once been.   
  
The door was unlocked - strange but not overly so, considering the place was listed publicly as abandoned - and the hallway leading to a series of staircases dusty and deserted. Jesse’s immediate thought was that they’d been blessed, but when they descended another floor and found nobody there to greet them, that gratitude quickly began to morph into concern.  
  
“You know, for supposedly housing some super serious intel, this place is massively under guarded,” Jesse uttered to Hanzo as they made it to their intended level - one floor above the basement.  
  
The archer hummed in agreement, his expression tight. “That’s what worries me.”

"Trap?"

"Possibly. Just stay alert."

Their worrying only increased tenfold when they made it to their destination without further issue. Jesse was quick to shut and lock the door behind them while Hanzo scoured the interior of the small, abandoned office for any and all possible traps or cameras, only to turn up nothing. If it hadn’t been for the guards outside, Jesse would have been willing to call the whole mission a worthless endeavor.   
  
At the very least, there was a faint glow coming from one of the computers lining the far wall. It was still functioning, Jesse realized with a relieved sigh. The mission hadn’t been for nothing - at least, not yet.  
  
Hanzo made his way over to the console and touched his hand to it, bringing the machine back online with a quiet whirr. “Do you have the drive?” Hanzo asked, glancing at him over his shoulder.  
  
Jesse fumbled for one of the pouches on his hip, withdrawing a tiny, old-fashioned disc drive, which he passed to Hanzo. Winston had slapped some sort of program on there that would supposedly crack open and download copies of any questionable files stored on the computer.   
  
Sure enough, the program made quick work of breaking into the sealed files stored on the computer’s hard drive, bringing them up one by one onto the holoscreen being projected above the monitor. Both agents skimmed what they saw, finding most nothing to be concerned about, until one file caught Hanzo’s gaze and he magnified it for both of them to observe.  
  
It was a detailed report, lengthy and too wordy for Jesse’s tastes, but one word stood out to both of them, big and bold.  
  
“Nanomachines?” Hanzo murmured, continuing to scroll down the file. “This is what Talon’s been working on?”  
  
Jesse squinted up at the rest of the files, confused. “This is hardly new tech, though,” he said quietly, flipping through some of the pages with a flick of his wrist. “Angela’s had this sort of thing lying around for ages now. It’s how she heals folks, y’know?”  
  
Hanzo’s frown merely deepened. “I severely doubt Talon has stolen this technology because they wish to help people,” he pointed out, reaching up to skim through the set of files in front of him. “Unless they wish to market some sort of drug and profit off of...oh.”   
  
He brought up a lone video clip, being sure to mute it before clicking play. It was about three minutes long with the first couple of seconds being focused on a huge, writhing black mass, almost smoke like in appearance. It circled a large, white-walled room almost lazily, rotating like a tornado in slow motion.  
  
“The fuck is that?” Jesse wheezed. “The nanomachines?”  
  
“Billions of them,” Hanzo said, sounding just as terrified as Jesse was feeling. “There would have to be billions if not trillions to get them to be visible like this…”  
  
The black mass continued to pulsate. The camera refocused, bringing two Talon guards armed with electrified batons into view at the bottom of the screen. Their presence put into perspective just how big the cloud of nanomachines was.  
  
Tiny shocks and zaps with the batons kept the mass in line, which made sense, Jesse thought. Nanomachines were still machines, and electricity played a part in keeping them in motion.   
  
Then, out of goddamned nowhere, the mass lashed out and swarmed one of the men, swallowing him whole in a matter of seconds. Both Jesse and Hanzo recoiled in shock, but kept watching as the other guard started jabbing and stabbing the nanomachines with his baton in a desperate attempt to drive it away from his coworker.   
  
No luck - the mass assimilated with the other man in record time, turning itself into a vaguely human-shaped figure that was frothing black smoke from its nose, mouth and ears. It lunged at the other guard, wrapping its long, sharp fingers around his neck.   
  
More guards sprinted into the room to beat the shit out of their possessed coworker with electrified batons, finally managing to drive the mass out of him. It surged away in a burst of black smoke and up towards the ceiling, pulsating now like an upside down angry sea. But Jesse wasn’t watching the nanomachine cloud - his eyes were on the man it had just possessed...or what remained of him. Naked now, his smoking, writhing body was clearly visible just within frame of the camera. His coworkers were quick to haul him up and out of the room, but the damage had been done.  
  
The video ended abruptly, leaving both Overwatch agents sitting in stunned silence for all of thirty seconds.  
  
“That’s fucked up,” Jesse found himself babbling under his breath. “What in blue fuckin’ blazes would Talon use this - this _monster tech_ for?”  
  
“It’s a bioweapon,” Hanzo spat, moving with shaking hands to download everything onto the drive. “What else are bioweapons used for?”  
  
“But - this doesn’t make any sense! Nanomachines aren’t sentient, right?”  
  
“Perhaps not on their own,” Hanzo replied, fixing his wild gaze on Jesse. Frightened wasn’t a good look on him. “We just saw what happens when they’re fused to something that is.”  
  
Jesse’s head reeled with this onslaught of information. If this was all true - and the files strongly suggested that it was - then the whole world could easily be in the shitter if those Talon-controlled nanomachines fused with someone in a position of power. And who knows how many batches Talon already had? Who knew how many were already out there, fused to politicians and public figureheads?  
  
“Goddamn,” he rasped. “Let’s get this shit downloaded and get outta here.”  
  
Hanzo was already way ahead of him. The files were downloading onto their drive at a goddamn snail’s pace as far as Jesse was concerned, and he was now acutely aware of how pressed for time they were. Talon agents could be storming the place as they speak. Perhaps they’d set off a silent alarm, or maybe the computer had alerted its owners that it had been hacked.   
  
“Calm down,” Hanzo told him suddenly, reaching out to touch his arm. “You are trembling.”  
  
Indeed he was, even with his hands clenched into fists at his side. He’d been all right up until now; Hanzo’s bantering on the rooftop earlier had helped put him at ease, as had getting some of his troubles off his chest. But all of that was in the wind now in the face of something so dire.  
  
Conscious of Hanzo’s careful touch, Jesse took a deep breath and came back to himself. “How’re we gettin’ outta here? Same way we went in?” he asked, voice only a little hoarse.   
  
“If we radio Commander Reyes for pickup now, we could theoretically bide our time before just rushing our way out,” Hanzo offered, though he didn’t seem too keen on that suggestion. By all rights they should just go out the way they came, but that was still a huge risk. This wasn’t just any old information they were stealing - this was potentially world-changing; they had to be careful.   
  
“I’ll hail him,” Jesse decided. “Then we can decide how to blow this joint.”  
  
Hanzo nodded, his sharp gaze back on the file download bar. Almost halfway there and still not moving fast enough.   
  
Jesse brought his hand to his ear. “Gabe,” he rasped, “you’re not gonna believe what this intel is.”  
  
“Lemme guess - a recipe for chicken francesa.”  
  
“Nanotech,” Jesse told him, not bothering to joke around. “I dunno how, but these bastards got their grubby little paws on Angie’s nanotechnology and made a...shit, I dunno how else to describe it other than a ‘monster,’ Gabe, you need to see this shit.”  
  
The Strike Commander sobered up immediately. “You two ready for evac?” he asked.   
  
“Yeah. Sooner rather than later would be - ”  
  
Suddenly the room was flickering purple and Hanzo was letting out a stream of startled, angry curses in Japanese. Jesse whirled around to face his partner, only to find himself cursing in unison when he saw what was happening: vibrant purple skulls were popping up all over the projected screens, somehow managing to be both endearing and a massive threat at one go. The word ‘naughty’ was written in Spanish underneath the massive skull pulsating over the frozen download bar.   
  
“What’s going on?” Gabriel asked, voice crackling with static.  
  
“Aw, hell - I think someone’s hacked us,” Jesse babbled, moving to Hanzo’s side as the man frantically tried to unfreeze the download process. The whole computer seemed to be locked up now; even moving the ancient mouse didn’t do anything. “Shit, I think they have one hell of a firewall in place here, jefe.”  
  
“Get what you can and get outta there,” Gabriel ordered. “If they weren’t aware of you before, they sure as hell are now.”  
  
“Roger,” Jesse said reluctantly, then touched Hanzo’s shoulder. “It’s a lost cause, Han, let’s go.”  
  
The man slammed his fists on the console, teeth bared in a snarl. “But the intel - ”  
  
“We saw some of it,” Jesse assured him. “We can write it all in our reports later, but right now we gotta skedaddle - ”  
  
The door burst open, revealing two armed Talon agents. Jesse and Hanzo drew their weapons fired in unison, bringing the agents both down before either of them could even think about attacking. Hanzo snatched the drive out of the machine, cursing at the trail of sparks it left in the air. The damn thing was probably worthless now, but they weren’t about to ditch it if they could salvage something off of it.   
  
They bolted then, foregoing finesse and stealth for the sake of time. If Talon hadn’t been aware of them before, the sound of Jesse’s Peacekeeper going off had surely alerted the entire facility to their presence.  
  
“What’s the plan?” Jesse asked as they rounded a corner and made for the staircase that would bring them back to the first floor.  
  
“At this point?” Hanzo paused to draw his bow and send a scatter arrow down the hallway, shredding the poor grunt who thought he might play hero by stopping them. “Get out any way we can.”  
  
“Shit, I could have suggested that,” Jesse grumbled as he put a bullet between the red eyes of another Talon agent foolish enough to get in their way.   
  
They just reached the top of the stairs when Jesse’s knee decided it’d had enough and damn near gave out on him, almost bringing him to the floor. Hanzo was quick to grab his arm, keeping him from face planting, but only just.  
  
“Fuck,” Jesse wheezed, gripping at his throbbing knee through the brace as they continued into the main portion of the warehouse. Crates and boxes littered the area, making navigating even more of a bitch.  
  
“The shot,” Hanzo urged him as they moved towards the front door, towards freedom. “Now is the time to use it, McCree.”  
  
But he shook his head. “Might need it later,” he hissed through gritted teeth, glowering down at his limb. “I’m fine, stop fussin’ over me - ”  
  
“Jesse!”  
  
Jesse jerked as Hanzo slammed into him. Dimly, almost at the same time, he heard the distant cracking sound of a rifle going off, but that didn’t catch up to him until after he’d been knocked to the floor. Hanzo came to rest on top of him with a yell that was too loud to be born of just having the wind knocked out of him.   
  
A pinprick of red flickering across Hanzo’s shoulder caught Jesse’s gaze. Both men moved in unison, scrambling for cover as another blast of a sniper rifle rang out. The bullet tore a hole in the concrete floor where they’d been mere seconds before, sending particles flying in all directions.   
  
They collapsed behind a stack of boxes, but Jesse knew they couldn’t stay still for long. They needed to get the hell out - now.  
  
He turned to Hanzo, only to find the man panting and gripping at his gut. His hands were becoming slicker and slicker with dark red blood. He’d had been shot, Jesse realized, feeling his stomach drop out of his ass. He’d taken that sniper bullet for him.  
  
“Shit,” Jesse muttered, immediately moving to put pressure on the wound. “Shit, lemme see - ”  
  
Almost in that same instance, the door on the other side of the room burst open, revealing dozens of armed Talon soldiers. Their red gazes immediately fell upon the duo, and their guns lifted in near unison.   
  
Jesse leapt to his feet and fired off a few shots of his own, bringing three men down before a sniper shot skated across his knuckles, making him yelp and drop his Peacekeeper. Hanzo was at his back in an instant despite his wound, his eyes wild and skin shining with sweat.  
  
He didn’t have to say anything. Jesse hurled a flashbang at the approaching agents, then pulled the archer’s arm over his shoulder. Together they bolted towards the only path not blocked by gunfire: the hallway that would take them deeper into the very facility they were trying to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all the kind words and kudos! Almost done, folks~


	14. Chapter 14

Jesse had never been so goddamned grateful that he’d done the training simulation for this stupid mission.

Despite the chaos, he had been able to get Hanzo down into the basement of the warehouse towards the only safe haven he could think of off the top of his head: the massive freezer that had once been used to store freshly butchered meat. The damn thing was somehow still on when they hobbled inside, but Jesse couldn’t be arsed to care - not when the thing had a working lock on the inside.

“This ought’a hold ‘em for a bit,” he spat as he hauled some of the massive metal shelves over to block the door. They weren’t safe in the slightest - it wouldn’t take long to scour the whole base from top to bottom - but it would provide them a chance to get situated at the very least.

“Reyes?” he barked, tapping his comm in his ear. “Reyes, come in, do you copy?”

It took a moment, but dimly Jesse heard someone replying, probably Gabriel judging by the frantic tone. “What’s up, kid?” it sounded like. “You make it out?”

“We’ve been compromised,” Jesse said, shutting his eyes and internally cursing himself for screwing up yet again. “Hanzo’s been shot and we’re trapped inside the base. We need immediate evac - ”

“McCree?” Gabriel cut him off along with a wave of static. “Jess, say again - breaking up.”

Jesse cursed. “Hanamura, Code Hanamura,” he stressed loudly. “Compromised. Need immediate evac.”

Static took over, leaving Jesse with no clue whether or not his commander even heard him. He cursed again and very nearly ripped the comm out of his ear. “God fuckin’ dammit,” he hissed, cutting the call. Being underground inside of a steel-walled freezer probably wasn’t helping him establish a stable link with people thousands of miles away.

By now Hanzo had sat down in the far back corner of the freezer, his hand still over the gunshot wound in his gut. It was bleeding freely, the droplets already coagulating on the icy, frozen floor. Jesse only hoped that they hadn’t left a trail on the way down here.

“Shit,” Jesse cursed, coming over as his priority shifted. “Shit, okay, lemme see.”

Hanzo peeled his hand away, revealing nothing but a mass of reddened, torn fabric. Jesse couldn’t even see the wound past all the blood.

“Didn’t go all the way through,” Hanzo informed him. His voice was tight, pained, but he was doing well all things considered. At least he wasn’t panicking. “Do we have any first aid?”

Jesse fumbled for the small satchel on his hip. “Nothin’ to treat a wound like this,” he admitted gravely. “Can’t use a bio-patch if the bullet’s still in there, but I do have the nanoboost.”

Hanzo shook his head. “That is for you,” he gritted out. “Save it in case you need to run - ”

“This is a two-man mission,” Jesse spat, shoving the shot into his other hand. “Meanin’ we’re both gonna make it outta here - whether you like it or not. Now stop talkin, save your strength. Let me do what I can to stop the bleedin’ for now.”

Hanzo obeyed, falling still and quiet as Jesse unzipped his stealth gear. He hissed as the shredded fabric tugged at the skin around the wound, earning a quiet apology from Jesse. He brought out his tactical light and squinted at the wound, frowning at what he found. It was fairly neat, all things considered, but even with the light shining bright on it, Jesse couldn’t find the bullet.

“Can’t see it,” he mumbled eventually, pulling back. So much for being able to dig the damn thing out. “But the good news is, you’re still in remarkably good shape for a man nearin’ forty.”

Hanzo chuckled, only to grit his teeth and hiss at the pain it brought him. “Thank you, Doctor Cowman,” he hissed out, shutting his eyes.

Jesse tore one of the biostim patches in half, attempting to frame the wound to keep it from tearing open more and bleeding so much. It was a shoddy job at best, but there wasn’t much else they could do at the moment. He wrapped Hanzo’s torso in gauze, then tore off his sleeve and tied it around the whole bunch as an added attempt at staunching the blood flow.

“What does,” Hanzo began as he worked, “Code Hanamura mean?”

Jesse paused only for half a second. “Basically ‘drop everythin’ and come get me,’” he muttered. “Not supposed to use it unless you really need to. It’s like the motherload of all red alert calls.”

“Oh,” Hanzo whispered. His eyes were drooping, and he was starting to tremble, probably from the shock in addition to the cold. “McCree, I - ”

“Save your strength,” Jesse ordered. He didn’t want to hear any ‘last dying words’ goddammit. “I doubt we’re actually gonna be safe here for long with the whole base on red alert. When the time comes to run, you use that shot and you don’t look back.”

Hanzo sent him a flat look. “What happened to ‘both of us making it out of here’?” he teased, managing to crack a small, toothy grin. His teeth were still white, but who knows how long it would be until he started coughing up blood from ruptured organs. “I was simply going to comment on the fact that this is the most you’ve paid attention to me since I joined Overwatch. I can’t help but wonder why you would be so intent on saving a man you hate so vehemently.”

Jesse sputtered. “I - you - Genji would kick my ass if I let you die,” he blubbered pathetically. “So sorry, not happenin’ today, archer. No matter how badly you might want it to.”

He hadn’t really meant to spit that last part out, but it was in the open now. Hanzo’s mirth faded as his gaze drifted to the ground between them.

Silently reprimanding himself for making things awkward, Jesse stripped off his jacket and draped it over Hanzo’s trembling shoulders, then planted himself next to the man. Hanzo was several degrees colder than Jesse was and automatically leaned towards him, unconsciously seeking his warmth.

“I wanted to die for the longest time,” Hanzo admitted softly after a while. “The true desire started after I killed Genji. Commander Reyes had the chance, but I guess he knew that’s what I wanted. What part of me still wants despite having my brother’s forgiveness.”

Jesse ground his teeth together. The hell was he supposed to say in response to that? The bitter, forever-angry side of him wanted to spit fire back at the man, claim that he deserved to die for everything he’d done, but Jesse was tired of giving in to the fury. He was _tired_ , goddammit.

Hanzo shifted a little, moving the slightest inch away from Jesse. “I don’t expect someone like you to understand.”

“The hell does that mean - ”

Hanzo sent him an irritated look out of the corner of his eye. “Not Japanese,” he snapped. “Not from my background, from my culture, from my family. I’m aware of how stupid it sounds from an outsider’s point of view. But one cannot simply shake off years of conditioning. Genji has been trying to help me move past what the elders had drilled into my head since birth, but it’s not as easy - ”

A cough shook him then, cutting him off mid-tirade. He clapped a hand over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, no doubt in pain from the motion his chest caused on his wound. When he finally ceased and pulled his hand back, it was speckled red.

“Shit,” Jesse muttered, fumbling for the handkerchief he kept in his back pocket.

“McCree,” Hanzo started again, only to pause for a moment as Jesse tended to his blood-splattered hand and lips. Those lips cracked into the barest traces of a smile. “I have often dreamed of having you dote on me like this.”

Jesse froze, meeting his gaze. “What?”

“Well, not - not like _this_. But having you close to me, sharing your warmth…” Hanzo took a shaky breath, letting his gaze slide away. “Having you care for me.”

Jesse felt his ears turn red even with the cold around them. “Great, now you’re gettin’ delirious,” he muttered, dabbing the last of the blood away before he pulled back.

Hanzo smirked a little, but there was no mirth in it. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a cough came out. It set him off in a fit that left him spitting up more blood and gasping for breath. Jesse couldn’t do anything to help beyond grip his shoulder and mutter that he was going to be okay. He wasn’t sure if he was lying or not at this point.

Hanzo sucked in a wet breath as the coughing finally stopped. “You - you and Genji have my blessing,” he blurted, lifting his hand to wipe the blood off his chin.

Jesse gaped at him. “What?”

“To...to be together or however you wish to put it.”

“ _What_? Hanzo, what in the hell…?” Jesse blinked, then sputtered out a semi-hysterical laugh. “Do you - Genji and I aren’t datin’!”

Hanzo stared at him. “But...you two are frequently fraternizing,” he pointed out, brow creasing with confusion. “For years now, right?”

“Well, yeah, but,” Jesse chuckled again, wiping a fake tear away. “Friends can fuck without bein’ in a relationship. Genji’s my best friend - I feel safe with him, and he feels the same about me, and hey, the sex is great. But we ain’t together like that.”

Hanzo deflated a little, still visibly confused. “Oh,” he mumbled. A small dribble of blood was making its way down his chin now. “I see.”

Jesse’s mirth faded. “Hanzo?” he asked, reaching over to smudge the blood away with his thumb. It was a tender action, but Jesse’s concern for the man overrode his urge to put on a cold facade around the guy any longer. “Hey, hey. How many fingers am I holdin’ up?”

Hanzo managed to send him a flat look, though his gaze was slipping between focussed and glazed. “None,” he rasped. More blood trickled from his mouth. “Can you...help with these? Too cold to keep them on.”

He fumbled with his metal boots with a trembling hand. Indeed, they were freezing to the touch; Jesse couldn’t imagine how awful they felt against his skinny ankles and feet. He hurried to undo them, only to blink in surprise when he pulled one off and found nothing waiting beneath it.

He looked at Hanzo, eyes wide. “When did this happen?” he asked quietly. Jesse suffered a rather sudden, violent flashback of seeing these boots for the first time almost twenty years ago. He remembered it vividly - commenting on the man’s new wardrobe addition and getting a swift beatdown for it.

That’s why, he realized, feeling his stomach drop out of his ass. _That’s_ why Hanzo went from nearly-amicable to an unfeeling death machine practically overnight.

Almost at the same time as his revelation, Hanzo explained, “Shortly after my father died.”

“Who did this to you?”

“My mother.”

Jesse let his head fall back on the frozen wall of the freezer, barely feeling the pang of pain it brought him. “Jesus Christ,” he hissed, covering his face with his hand. “God - why? You were her - _why_?”

Hanzo shrugged a little. “It was to serve as a reminder,” he said. “That I could not run from my duties or my destiny.”

Jesse just sat there next to the man, stunned into silence. He had no idea. No fuckin’ clue! And chances were that Genji hadn’t known either if he’d been out all night drinking only to come straight to him that morning for comfort. The revelation left him beyond shook and emotionally confused.

“It’s funny,” Hanzo mumbled, huffing out a laugh. “A year or so ago I would have been defending her actions. But now - after spending time with Genji, with you, the others, I’ve come to realize that what I went through...it wasn’t right.” His voice was trembling now, though it was hard to say if it was from the cold, the pain, or the emotions breaking out of him. “I was abused and manipulated all my life and I - I’ve come to terms with this. I know that it’s not okay. That I’m not okay. But...perhaps one day, I might be.”

“Why didn’t you say somethin’ sooner? About all this?” Jesse rasped.

“I don’t want pity to be the only reason why you might choose to forgive me.” A cough shook Hanzo’s body, wet and rough. “I-I may have been suffering, but I put you through so much worse and I - ”

“You want my forgiveness?” Jesse picked his head up and tried to hold Hanzo's half-vacant stare with his own. “You fuckin’ survive this shit. You make it outta here with me in one piece, Hanzo.”

That wrenched a small smile out of the other man, but it was short lived. “I would have - would have liked to take you out for a drink sometime,” he mumbled. He was shuddering harder now, his head lolling on his shoulders even with Jesse there to reach out and support him. “There is so much I wish to discuss with you still. So much.”

“You still can,” Jesse stressed, kneeling down in front of him to shake him back into his body. “You listen to me, Hanzo Shimada, I ain’t done with you! Don’t you dare - ”

A loud bang on the freezer door jolted both men back to themselves. Hanzo shuddered, but he was more awake now than he’d been half a second ago. They were moving in unison almost immediately; Hanzo started to reattach his prosthetics while Jesse lunged across the room to put pressure on the door alongside the forty pounds of frozen beef. He didn’t have his Peacekeeper to make a difference in any fight that was about to go down.

“My bow,” Hanzo rasped, pointing at the weapon where it lay. Jesse grabbed it and noted there was one arrow left - one of Hanzo’s fancy scatter arrows. He went to pass them to Hanzo, but the archer shook his head, slumping. “I do not have the strength. You must wield it.”

Jesse’s stomach fell out of his ass. “I - _me_? But, I mean, can’t you just send your dragons through the door?”

Hanzo shook his head again. “I am not...strong enough to summon them,” he admitted reluctantly, like he was ashamed.

Jesse’s heart started to pound in his ears almost as loudly as the people trying to break open the doors to the freezer. “I - but - the nanoboost! Would that help any?”

Hanzo shook his head again, though the shot lay on his thigh, clenched tightly in his one hand. “I have faith in your aim, Jesse,” he rasped. “Just point it at the ground in front of them and pray luck is on our side.”

“That’s the advice you give a guy who’s never fired a bow before?”

Hanzo scowled. “It’s a scatter arrow! What else can I tell you?”

“Somethin’ other than ‘good luck’ would be fuckin’ swell!”

His aggravated yell was drowned out by the freezer door imploding outward behind him. On reflex he spun around and drew the bow tight, bringing it level with a tall, purple-skinned figure clad in a skin-tight, revealing suit and headgear that gave her the resemblance of a spider. Behind her were several muscular Talon agents decked out in black, their faces also covered by masks. They were all armed, though the woman wielded a sniper rifle instead of the typical assault rifle.

Jesse lowered the bow only a little. “Amelie,” he said quietly.

The woman smirked as her headgear peeled back, revealing her yellow eyes. “Clever,” she purred as the armed agents trickled into the room behind her. Their boots crunched ominously on the frozen floor. “But no one can hide from my sight, cherie.”

Jesse’s heart was pounding in his ears as the agents continued creeping forward. The bow was straining his arms now; he lowered it some more, trying to figure out where he should point it. Hanzo said at his feet, but they were all in such tight quarters now - he ran the risk of impaling the archer, if not himself.

“Ah,” Widowmaker cooed, kneeling down in front of Hanzo. “Hanzo Shimada, heir to the Shimada Clan empire. What an honor.”

Hanzo wrinkled his nose up at her. “I cannot say the same for you,” he gritted out. More blood was dribbling from between his lips, staining his teeth red.

Widowmaker noticed and flicked her thumb across his bottom lip, wrenching another disgusted look from the man. “Did that sting?” she asked, eying the wound in his gut. “You should have let the American take that shot. It would have ended him painlessly.”

“That’s why I took it instead,” Hanzo spat, shifting. In his hand, Jesse noticed he had the nanoboost syringe - out of Widowmaker’s sight. The man had a plan, and Jesse was ready for it.

As if reading his mind, Hanzo hurled the syringe at him in one fluid motion, steady and accurate despite his current agony. Jesse caught it and stabbed it into his thigh with the same swift urgency - only to scream at the burst of fire igniting his veins. It was so sudden, so unexpected that it left him reeling from head to toe.

And yet, autopilot kicked in. He lifted Hanzo’s bow and drew it in the same motion. He could feel his eye burning worse than the rest of him - his body demanding he satisfy the call ringing in the back of his skull. Everything was amplified ten times worse thanks to the nanoboost. All he could think about was killing everything in the room.

He only had one scatter arrow. But that was fine - it was more than enough for someone like him.

He fired. The arrow split up upon impact with Widowmaker’s headgear; she went down with a startled shriek, as did her henchmen as parts of the arrow imbedded themselves in their skulls. Every single bit of the scatter arrow found a new home in the bodies of Talon agents.

The room fell still in all of three seconds, the only sound coming from the roaring in Jesse’s ears. Then that too faded, and Jesse slipped quite suddenly into darkness.

* * *

Hanzo’s mouth was still hanging open in shock when Jesse tipped backwards and collapsed in a solid heap on the ice-covered floor of the freezer. He had seen Jesse’s Deadeye in action once before, but he had no idea he could make it work with something other than a gun. At the moment, it was as astonishing as it was a relief.

Though his own strength had left him minutes ago, he still couldn’t help but pull himself over to Jesse, worried that, at the very least, he had bashed his head open on the floor. His own wound screamed in agony, and for a split second Hanzo’s vision turned an alarming shade of black along the edges, but he remained conscious long enough to drag himself to Jesse’s side.

“McCree,” he rasped, getting close enough to touch the side of the man’s face. His pulse was wild, his skin flushed red despite the fact both of them had been near freezing moments earlier. “Jesse, please…”

Jesse didn’t respond, but at least he was still breathing. The same could not be said for most of the room’s occupants...save for one.

Widowmaker kicked Hanzo hard across his face, sending him tumbling away from Jesse’s side. The violent wrenching tore open his wound further, spilling fresh blood down his front and making him groan through gritted teeth.

The sniper was livid and in the process of pulling off the remaining chunks of her headgear that hadn’t been blasted off by the scatter arrow shot. There was a trail of blood dripping down her face from her temple, but otherwise the woman was fine - just enraged. And with Jesse out cold, Hanzo was well aware of the fact that she had the upper hand here.

He spat a wad of blood at her as she grew closer. “End me already,” he snapped. “I don’t have the patience for any of your pathetic evil speals.”

“Oh no,” she hissed. “We have plans for you and the remnants of your empire, Shimada.”

Of course. It was always about the empire. Hanzo sneered at her, bearing his bloodied teeth in a snarl. “The clan is no longer,” he spat. “And it is going to stay that way.”

“Not if Talon has anything to say about it,” Widowmaker promised. “They are quite interested in attaining the kind of influence your clan had over businesses and political officials.”

Hanzo felt his heart growing cold with terror. “I will die before helping you,” he choked out, hating how he sounded more afraid than irritated.

“Yes,” she told him. “I suppose a part of you will.”

Realization struck him heavily, but before he had the chance to well and truly panic over the idea of becoming something akin to that of the woman in front of him, a shadow fell over both of them. Hanzo blinked rapidly, trying to stave off unconsciousness for another minute, and nearly sobbed at the sight of Commander Reyes standing behind Widowmaker, one of his shotguns level with the back of her head.

“Stand down, Amelie,” Gabriel growled. “You’re done.”

She huffed, but made no move to fight back. There was little point, as more Overwatch agents were pouring into the freezer now, armed and ready. Hanzo wondered just how the hell they’d been able to mobilize so fast. Code Hanamura, he remembered dimly. Apparently it was no joke.

Once Widowmaker had been cuffed and led out of the freezer, Gabriel turned to Hanzo, brows furrowed with concern. “You all right, Shimada?”

“Been better,” he choked out, only realizing right then just how bad off he was. He couldn’t breathe, and blood was welling up in the back of his throat faster than ever. Even so, he reached for Jesse, burbling that the man needed help, and finally drifted off to the sound of a health pod being dropped somewhere nearby.

* * *

Jesse woke with a start in an infirmary. He scowled up at the white ceiling, cursing it. He was sick of seeing the damn thing. At least he wasn’t wrapped up in a ton of gauze and bio-stim patches this time - hell, not even an IV.

He let out a sigh and rubbed his left eye - the only part of him tingling with the slightest hint of pain. He remembered the onslaught of strength and fire that had burst through him when he’d stabbed himself with that nanoboost and unleashed hell on those Talon agents in the form of his Deadeye. He didn’t understand the nanoboost technology in the slightest, and a part of him never wanted to feel that kind of sensation again.

He also remembered quite suddenly that he hadn’t been the only one in that freezer.

“Jesse,” came Angela’s familiar tired yet optimistic voice from the doorway, cutting off his panic before it could truly form. “Glad to see you up. How are you feeling?”

“Where’s Hanzo?” Jesse asked instead, earning a frown out of the doctor as she came over to check his vitals.

“He is fine,” she said, pushing him back down by his shoulder when he made to get out of bed. “Made it through surgery and is resting comfortably in his own room down the hall.”

Jesse nodded, feeling himself deflate a little as the panic left him. Angela was staring at him with a fierceness that meant he wasn’t about to scramble out of there just yet - not without answering some questions of her own.

“Can you tell me exactly what happened to cause you to pass out for so long? You don’t have a scratch on you that would have caused you to collapse into a near coma.” She paused and pursed her lips at the datapad in her hands. “Though when you were first brought in, your pulse was elevated and your temperature astoundingly high for someone who had been hiding in a freezer for two hours.”

Jesse rubbed his chin, unsurprised that he’d been unconscious for a long while. “Oh, I used that nano-thing Ana gave me,” he said. “And Deadeye.”

Angela nearly dropped the datapad, her eyes going wide. “At the same time?” she blurted. “Jesse, that nanoboost is still very untested! At the most you should have used it to escape - ”

“I used it ‘cos I didn’t have a choice,” Jesse told her. “And hey, it helped a lot, I think. Just gotta figure out how to make it not overload my body and make me pass out after, that’s all.”

Angela sighed and rolled her eyes skyward, silently begging whatever higher being out there for patience. “I will mention it to Ana,” she relented. “Evidently some more experimentation is needed before we put more of these shots out in the field. Right now, however, you need bedrest.”

Jesse groaned, over-dramatic and frankly embarrassing for a man his age. “You just said I’ve been sleepin’ for days! C’mon, Angie, at least let me go see Hanzo.”

Angela’s stern look became more curious, but she didn’t try to ask him questions. “I’ll allow it,” she said, frowning a little. “But only if you promise not to disappear right after. I still have some tests I wish to run on you before I let you out of the medbay.”

Jesse cracked a tired grin and tilted his imaginary hat at her. “Yes ma’am, thank you,” he said, moving to stand.

After changing out of the dumb paper dress he’d been made to wear during his extended nap, Jesse made for the hallway. He only got a few paces before he ran into Genji of all people, who was no doubt on his way back from visiting his brother. The cyborg visibly perked up upon seeing him mobile.

“Jesse! Good to see you,” he said, drawing him into a careful hug. “I did not think Angela would release you so soon. Rumor has it you were out for quite some time.”

“Not that long,” Jesse grumbled, feeling himself flush with embarrassment. Did everyone on base know he’d been out cold or what? “Do you know where Hanzo is?”

That had Genji tilting his head in surprise. “You wish to see him?”

“Well, yeah, the guy’d been shot,” Jesse said, frowning. “Angie said he’s fine, but…” He trailed off, realizing just now why everyone had been sending him curious looks over his desire to see the archer. “I-I mean, he...he took that shot for me, and I…”

Genji merely continued to stare; with his mask on, it was impossible for Jesse to guess what he was thinking, but he could sure as hell guess.

“A lot of stuff came out while we were in that freezer,” he offered lamely. “Did you know about his legs?”

At that, Genji nodded, glancing away. “Only as of a few weeks ago. It’s upsetting, isn’t it? Finding out how badly someone was suffering right in front of you when you had no idea. My own brother was in agony and I…” He sighed, collecting himself. “We failed each other in a lot of aspects. Never again.”

Jesse clapped his hand on Genji’s shoulder. “You’re a good man, Genji,” he told him.

His friend tilted his head slightly, indicating he was flashing a smile beneath his mask. “And you as well, Jesse. I’m glad you and my brother had the chance to bond a little - though I suppose the circumstances could have been better.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Then again, without it, Jesse doubted he and Hanzo would be on their current level of understanding. It sucked that it happened, especially since Hanzo got messed up in the process, but they’d gotten the intel. They’d escaped with their lives. They were okay.

Genji pointed him in the right direction and left him to it with a pat on the arm and a thumbs up. Jesse made his way down the hall, pausing only to snag two small juice boxes off a food cart tray despite the robo-nurse’s irritated warbling.

When he entered Hanzo’s hospital room, he found the man propped up on his bed, his head turned towards the television on the wall - staring at it but not actually watching whatever it was being projected.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” he offered, loitering a little awkwardly in the doorway.

Hanzo snapped his head around, eyes wide with surprise. “Jesse,” he blurted, moving to sit up. The motion tugged at his wound, making him frown, so Jesse hurried to his side and ushered him back down into the pillows.

“No need to get up,” he told him, moving to take the chair next to the bed. “Just wonderin’ how you’re doin’.”

“I’m fine,” Hanzo told him, brow creasing with concern. “What about you? After you performed Deadeye, you…”

“Yeah, passed out, I know. The whole damn squad knows. Guess now I know not to mix that with a nanoboost, huh?” Jesse offered him a cheesy smile. “I’m all right now. You were the one with an actual wound, but I’m assumin’ it’s mostly gone at this point, right?”

Hanzo nodded and laid his hand across his bandaged gut. “Yes, though Dr. Ziegler is adamant that I rest for another day or so since I was...very close to death when I was brought in.”

Jesse chewed on the inside of his cheek, feeling guilty yet again. “Well, glad you made it.”

“Are you?” Hanzo asked, cocking a teasing brow. At least, Jesse was pretty sure he was teasing. He turned away before he could ask, his gaze sliding to the blanket draped across his lap. "Jess - McCree, back in the freezer, I said some rather...embarrassing things in regards to my feelings without taking yours into account beforehand. I apologize if they made you uncomfortable."

Instead of answering, Jesse set one of the juice boxes down on the little tray attached to the arm of the bed. Hanzo eyed it, asking, “Is it lunch time?”

“Maybe. I mean, almost.” Jesse rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “Just figured we could have that drink you mentioned.”

Hanzo’s eyes widened. “I...yes,” he stuttered, fumbling for the little box of cherry flavored drink. He lifted it towards Jesse. “Cheers,” he offered hesitantly. “To new beginnings.”

Jesse cracked a grin and clunked his box against Hanzo’s. “Cheers to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it! An ending as well as a beginning, heh. A big thank-you to everyone who's left a kudos or a kind review. :'> I appreciate all y'all!


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